


The Woman and The Bell

by Jem (allonsymous)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), doctor who RTD era
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Cruise, Cruise Ship, Drama, F/M, Headaches, Iceland, Mystery, Norway - Freeform, Pete's World, Romance, Telepathy, The Woman and The Bell, hurt/sick, tardis withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 71,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymous/pseuds/Jem
Summary: The Doctor's duplicate and Rose Tyler go on a cruise to Iceland.  The Doctor has been living in Pete's World for three weeks now, but his maddening headaches, brought on by his severed link with the TARDIS, aren't getting better like he thought they would.  Meanwhile, someone is watching them on the ship.  But who?  And why?  The Doctor and Rose are on the case to find the answer.  But they discover much more than they bargained for.





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six legs. Six spindly black legs, protruding from a black segmented body, tiny organs housed inside a shiny blue-black exoskeleton. It was really quite pretty. Small wonder they were held in such esteem by ancient Egyptians. One of nature's living jewels. A black sapphire, dense and dark as a splash of ink. An onyx polished to a liquid shine, beckoning the observer to swim in its dark pool. A black pearl, iridescent, marked with a white smudge where the light struck it directly, while outlined in deep royal blue where reflected light died on its edges.

The beetle crawled along the side of the Doctor's hand, and he shifted his arm, watching the tiny creature explore the surface of his skin. Its pinpoint legs tickled as it went, stopping periodically to adjust its feelers, testing the environment for god knows what. Food? Danger? A mate?

The Doctor carefully cupped his other hand over the insect, trapping it between his palm and wrist, gently guiding it until he had it trapped inside the hollow ball that his joined hands made. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back inside the corner where the two perpendicular walls of his bedroom met. He was sitting on the hardwood floor behind the bed, flanked by a nightstand on his left and a chest of drawers on his right. Knees drawn up supporting his forearms just above the elbow; hair unkempt, though this time not meticulously so. He wore jeans, a t-shirt that read _sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come_ , and he wore neither shoes nor socks.

He flexed his telepathic muscles, reaching out, listening for that tingle, that indescribable sensory ping of the beetle's mind.

He could almost hear it. Unless he was imagining things, which was certainly possible. He did have a rather vivid imagination. Nine-hundred-plus years and counting traveling through time and space gives one plenty of fuel for that. It was hardly difficult to imagine what might be on a beetle's brain. Need food. Need shelter. Need safety. 

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath, exhaling at an even slower rate, focusing his mind as he felt the creature crawling around on his skin. A warmth formed on the edges of his consciousness. Oh how he craved it! He felt like a man caught in a blizzard without his coat, trying to warm himself with the flame of a matchstick. He eagerly pushed forward, hungry, desperate for more. His control began slipping as his mind expanded, ready to gorge on the beetle's consciousness, but even as he did, the warmth faded. The crawling ceased. He opened his eyes and slowly separated his hands.

The beetle lay still, its six spindly legs curled up tight, as though the chill inside his mind had frozen it to death.

The Doctor stood and walked to the window, tipping his cupped hand onto the sill, the dead beetle rolling away to join the collection of other dead insects that had accumulated over the past two weeks.

God, his head hurt.

-

“Mum, you can't be serious!”

Rose Tyler stood in her parents living room, mouth agape in surprise and puzzlement as she watched her mum fold towels. Jackie glanced up just briefly before returning her eyes to the pile of laundry. Rose knew the look. It was Jackie's trying-to-be-nonchalant look. There was no way this was all coincidence.

“Of course I'm serious! It'll be lovely. You and the Doctor could use a little down time, you know, sort things out and get to know each other again. And it'd be a dreadful shame to let the tickets go to waste.”

“It's really sweet of you, Mum, it's just... I'm not sure a cruise is really the Doctor's thing.” What she really meant, of course, was that cruises weren't really _her_ thing. “Besides, why don't you and Pete go? You both never take a proper vacation, and Pete works too hard.”

“I already told you, both those weeks are totally booked up with preparations for the Vitex charity gala. If it were any other time I'd try to talk him into it, but it really won't work.” She tilted her head, suddenly incredulous. “And of course it's the Doctor's thing! He lived on a ship for hundreds of years, it'll be like old times.”

Rose stifled a laugh. “A tiny cabin on a cruise ship hardly compares to a bigger-on-the-inside space ship and time machine, mum. That box was the size of London! Bigger even!”

“Yeah, but travelin' though! And besides, it's not a tiny cabin. It's a luxury suite. Very comfortable!”

Rose sat next to her mum and picked up a towel distractedly. “Where'd you get cruise tickets anyway?”

“Pete won them in a raffle.”

“Why did he enter a raffle for tickets to a cruise he knew he couldn't go on?” She shot her mum a covert glance.

“There were other prizes. He was hoping for the pressure washer.” Jackie chewed her bottom lip and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the towel she was folding.

Rose crossed her arms. “Hasn't he already got a pressure washer?”

Jackie laid the folded towel on the stack and fidgeted with her bracelet. “Well it must be broken if he does, otherwise why else would he want one?”

Rose sighed. “Mum, did you buy those tickets for the Doctor and me?”

“No! No, of course not! ...Just can't use them myself, that's all.” Jackie's eyebrows drooped. “And you're not acting very grateful to your mum for offering them.”

“Mum, it's okay. It's very sweet, and I'm grateful.” She put a hand on top of her mother's. “But I'd rather you just tell me.”

“I didn't think you'd like me spending the money on you. But love, you and the Doctor... I worry about you. Both of you. You're not yourselves. I thought maybe some time away...”

“We're okay, Mum. It's just... it's going to take some time, that's all. A lot's changed, especially for him.” Rose pulled her hand away and picked at her fingernails, eyes firmly fixed on her knees. “He just... he misses her.”

Jackie frowned, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean? He's got you, sweetheart, isn't that what he wanted?”

Rose frowned in mild frustration and shook her head. “No, not like that. I mean the TARDIS. He misses the TARDIS.” She licked her lips and sighed. “The TARDIS is a she. She's sentient. You know, alive. They were connected.” She looked her mother in the eye, pointing to her own temple. “Telepathically. They were in each others minds, all the time. That's all gone now, and... it hurts him. Not just, you know, sadness and that, but he gets these headaches. And sometimes he gets sort of withdrawn, you know, like he's trying to find something inside his head. Something missing. Doesn't pay attention or notice what's going on around him when he gets like that.” She sat up straighter and sighed resignedly. “But! He'll be okay. We'll be okay. I think he might be getting a little better. He hasn't had a headache since Monday.”

Jackie smiled softly and pulled Rose in for a little one-armed squeeze. “Love, you should take the tickets. Maybe a little distraction would do him some good. And it might be more like old times. No bigger-on-the-inside spaceship time machine, but a little adventure, just to ease him into his new life. Maybe it'll help him remember what it was like, being with you. This day to day stuff isn't what he's used to. Could be that as much as this missing-the-TARDIS thing. Maybe he's bored.”

Rose laughed morosely. “Yeah. He never was one for domestics. He needs something to keep him busy, but I don't know what. He refuses to work for Torchwood, even though I've explained to him numerous times that it's not like the old Torchwood from our universe. We need to figure something out before he goes bonkers.”

“Well,” Jackie's eyes sparkled, “you two take that cruise, and maybe I can convince Pete to find him something to do in the Vitex labs.”

Rose scrunched up her face. “Mum, no! That is not even remotely the right fit for the Doctor. ...Or Vitex, for that matter. Unless Dad wants his new drink called Recipe For Disaster.”

“You never know,” Jackie said defensively. “It doesn't hurts to try, does it?”

Rose guffawed. “Sometimes it does. You wouldn't try jumping out of a zeppelin, would you?”

“Well that's hardly the same thing.”

“Right. Mum, listen. If I take the Doctor on that cruise, do you promise not to meddle and let me handle this?”

Jackie smiled with satisfaction. “Absolutely, Sweetheart.”

Rose had been played, and she knew it. But she didn't feel like arguing, and it really was thoughtful—not to mention incredibly generous—to buy them the tickets. Maybe she was right. Maybe the Doctor just needed a little adventure to ease him into his new, ordinary human life.

__

_Not that a cruise is much of an adventure. Sleeping on a giant boat full of gift shops, restaurants, and wealthy tourists. Where's the adventure in that?_

  
  


__

-

The Doctor didn't let go of Rose's hand once during the entire five and a half hour ride from London to Newcastle, with the exception of a couple of quick stops to use the loo. He slept most of the way, which Rose tried to shrug off as an effect of their extra early morning. But there was an anxious tickle in the back of her mind that knew there was more to it than being particularly groggy.

They sat in the back of a luxury sedan, one of Pete's driver's behind the wheel. He was quiet and detached, and kept the glass partition closed to give them privacy. Rose knew if she needed anything, she could use the intercom. It was a mode of travel she'd never really gotten used to, but was the Pete Tyler standard of living. He often worked in the car while the chauffeur drove, so it was as strategic as it was convenient. At first, Rose didn't like it, and insisted on sitting in the front seat so that she could keep the driver company. But she quickly discovered this made him uncomfortable, so she started taking the back seat like everyone else. It wasn't her favorite mode of transportation, and she always drove her own car around town, but she had to admit that for long car trips, this really was the ideal arrangement.

She stared down at the Doctor, his head on her lap, her arm smothered in a perma-hug while their fingers were entwined. It bordered on uncomfortable, but she didn't want to disturb him. When it got too achy, she would carefully extricate her arm and replace it with her other hand, which he would groggily wrap himself around after giving it a little kiss, keeping his eyes closed all the while.

He was more out of sorts than usual that morning. She asked him if he was having one of his headaches, and he responded with an overlarge grin and a _course not, I'm fine! Better than fine!_ Which she had come to understand actually meant that he wasn't fine at all.

She ran her fingers gently through his hair, feeling the anxious vice on her heart clamping down tighter. Is this what it would be like now? He wasn't always very forthcoming with his feelings, but she'd never seen him sink so deeply into himself as she had the last few weeks. Ever since the TARDIS had disappeared from their universe. Permanently.

They'd spent that first night in a hotel near Bad Wolf Bay, talking through all the things that had happened, eventually falling asleep against their wills. The next morning, the Doctor was sick in the loo, and was complaining of an excruciating headache. After what had happened with Donna on the TARDIS, Rose nearly panicked until he assured her that this was different. He was experiencing telepathic withdrawals because the TARDIS was gone. He was certain he'd feel right as rain again within a few days.

That was three weeks ago. He wasn't getting better, and now he was trying to hide it from her altogether. She'd come home from work and see him sitting on the floor in the corner, or curled up in bed. As soon as he saw her, he'd jump up with a big grin and wrap her up in his arms, talking all the while about silly nothings. She let it go most of the time, but occasionally had to ask.

__

_You okay? You seem... kinda down._

__

_Me? Oh, I'm fine, Rose. I'm good!_ And there would be that manic grin again, the one that never quite reached his eyes. 

__

“Doctor,” she said softly, the near-whisper sounding like nails on a chalkboard after so much silence. He didn't respond. She raised her voice a little. “Doctor, wake up. We're nearly there.” Pulling her hand free, she gave his shoulder a little shake.

The Doctor lifted his head slightly, eyes squinting to combat the light even as he tried to open them. “Hmm? Wha'sat, Rose?”

“We're almost there,” she repeated, brushing a finger across his cheek.

He slowly sat up, stretching as he spoke through a yawn. “Right! Cruise ship, here we come!” He smacked his lips and tongue a few times, expression turning sour. “Rose, have you got any mints or gum or something? Blimey, you humans and your morning breath.”

“That's we humans to you,” she said, rifling through her handbag and pulling out a little tin of breath mints, removing the top as she held it out to him.

“It's too early to argue semantics, Rose.” He selected a mint and popped it in his mouth.

“Not so early anymore, Doctor. It's nearly ten!”

The Doctor grimaced. “Can't be. It feels like half that.”

“What, no joke about humans sleeping so much?”

He grinned despite himself, massaging his hair into submission with splayed fingers. “I had no idea how good it felt, being human and sleeping. Sleeping and sleeping, it's lovely! Time Lord sleep is compulsory at best. But the way it feels when you're human... I really must read up on the chemical cocktails being all shaken up in the human body during sleep. Fascinating stuff!” He straightened the collar of his burgundy oxford and smoothed out his dark blue and red pinstriped trousers. The matching jacket was draped across the seat beside him. Two top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the crew-neck of a blue t-shirt underneath.

Rose was more casually dressed in a short pink and yellow a-line skirt over white leggings, a pair of strappy brown sandals, and a slouchy pink jumper. She combed her fingers through her mid-length bottle blond hair and threw it into a hasty ponytail, only pulling it halfway through the hair tie to create a little loop and a spray of layered ends poking out the top. A smattering of loose fringe fell about her face. She glanced over to see the Doctor staring at her, a moony grin on his face. Suppressing a smile, she arched both eyebrows, head tilted to the side just a bit. “What?”

“Nothing," he hummed, reaching for her hand. “Rose Tyler, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

She smiled then, tongue between her teeth. “Only fifty-two times a day for the last three weeks.”

He frowned. “Only fifty-two? I need to up my game.”

She laughed and gave him an affectionate shove with her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Who, me?" he laughed. "Never happen.” He leaned forward and caught her mouth in a kiss.

She grinned as they separated, playing with the collar of his shirt. “Well, Doctor, have you got our itinerary?”

“Hmm?” He looked puzzled, slightly dazed. “Oh! Itinerary. Yes.” He reached for his jacket and pulled out the envelope containing their tickets and travel papers. “So... it's to be the _Glacial Enchantment_ excursion, is it?” He pulled out the brochure and opened it, revealing scenic photos of their upcoming ports of call. “'Adventure awaits in the icy north Atlantic, where the otherworldly wilds of Iceland are sure to bedazzle.' Blimey, who comes up with this rubbish? Still... Iceland. You know, that's one place I've never really explored. Been there once, but it was really more of a layover.”

Rose giggled. “The TARDIS did layovers?”

“Well, it was more of a wrong turn. I didn't go out.”

“Really? That's not like you.”

“I was busy! I had a bet with the king of France that Lutefisk actually existed, and was edible. I wasn't about to lose my sonic over it, I needed proof!”

Rose burst out laughing. “Oh Doctor, just when I think I've heard it all.”

“Come now, Rose. All my many hundreds of years adventuring? You haven't heard the half of it.”

“You should write your memoirs. It'd fill a whole series of science fiction novels. Could even be a show on Telly.” She bit her tongue and grinned.

The Doctor grinned. “Ha! Me? I'd be an international sensation!” He reached to adjust his tie self-importantly, but frowned when he grasped only air. “Rose, should I start wearing ties again?”

“Just so you can fiddle with them when you're feeling especially pleased with yourself?”

“Well what else can I do? Let me see. Run a hand through my hair? That feels a bit Elvis, doesn't it?” His face fell. “Oh, Rose, I never took you to see Elvis! After that whole thing with the Wire, I sort of forgot...”

Rose smiled and patted his shoulder. “It's all right, Doctor. He never existed in this universe anyway, so it wouldn't make much of a story.”

“What? No Elvis, no Harry Potter... next you'll be telling me there was no Freddie Mercury either!”

“Oh no, Freddie was real. But he was an opera singer.”

The Doctor grimaced. “I could cry.”

“Please don't.” Rose glanced over the Doctor's shoulder. “Oh look, here we are!”

-

Rose wasn't really sure what to expect when it came to their cabin. Her mum had described it as a luxury suite, but after traveling with the Doctor through time and space, she couldn't imagine it being as extravagant as the TARDIS had been. Still, when they did enter their suite, she found herself very surprised at just how spacious it was. There were two bedrooms, each with their own en suite; a spacious common room with a media center, sitting area, fully stocked bar, and dining area; a large balcony overlooking the stern with hot tub and deck furniture. Everything was carefully coordinated in seafoam, cream, and yellow ochre, with dark mahogany accent tables and bookshelves, and creamy rugs of thick, soft pile. The ceiling housed an opulent crystal chandelier, which Rose found rather over the top, eliciting a little laugh and a shake of the head.

“Oh my god! I have to say, I wasn't expecting this.” She set her bags down by the door and sauntered through the common room, inspecting the framed paintings and objets d'art, running her fingers along the spines of the shelved books. She turned to the Doctor. “Really is a bit nice, isn't it?”

The Doctor dropped his bags and shoved his hands in his pockets, inspecting the room from the door. “Yeah... yeah, looks like,” he said casually. “Mind you, if I break one of those Italian vases on the bookshelf there, it may well bankrupt your dad.”

Rose chuckled, walking over to him. “It probably just looks expensive. Bet they got it at a 99p.”

The Doctor smirked. “Shall I ask?”

“Maybe later. Now, which room do you want, Doctor?”

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “Oh. Well. Whichever. I assume they both have beds?”

Rose bit her bottom lip. “Well, I'll just take this one, then.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder towards the room on the right. “I'm gonna go unpack and maybe freshen up a bit. Exploring after?”

“Sounds brilliant,” he replied with tense little nod and only half a smile. 

She hesitantly returned the smile, looking mildly concerned. “Everything all right, Doctor?”

He grinned over-widely. “Yeah! Everything's brilliant! I'm just a little groggy from the car ride, that's all.”

She smiled softly, but her eyes were distant. “Right. Well, off I go.” She grabbed her bags and disappeared into her room.

-

As soon as he heard the click of her door closing, he let out a tense sigh and leaned back against the main entryway door, closing his eyes and pushing the heel of his palms against them. He swallowed noisily, mouth dry and thick, the pain behind his brow bone radiating into his sinuses and teeth. He drew in a deep breath, deliberately releasing it like a slow balloon, willing his limbs to relax.

The ache in his head was dull, mostly born of pressure inside his skull. Nothing like the headache he'd gotten when he was telepathically linked to Donna. That was more intense, more excruciating, like being stabbed in the face and neck, lancing pain being thrust everywhere inside his head. He was pretty sure that was worse than this new crushing heaviness he was constantly fighting, but that didn't change the fact that these new headaches were bad, and he wasn't so sure they were getting any better.

He'd begun hiding them from Rose after the first week and a half, though he thought it evident that she could sense his discomfort despite his efforts. He knew there was nothing dangerously wrong, and he didn't want to burden her. It was merely a negative reaction to the emptiness inside his head after all his hundreds of years being linked to the TARDIS. There wasn't anything either of them could do but wait it out.

He was pretty confident in the beginning that the withdrawals would fade after a few days. But three weeks later and still no improvement, he was beginning to wonder just how long it would take. He had been connected to the TARDIS for so long, it hadn't occurred to him that recovery time might relate to how long his telepathic link had existed.

__

_Blimey, please tell me I'm not going to be having these headaches for the next eight hundred years... oh, wait, I'm part human now. I haven't got more than a handful of decades left in this body. Wizard..._

__

He dropped his hands from his face and bent to gather up his luggage, carrying it into his own bedroom and closing the door behind him.

-

Although Rose and The Doctor had been living in the same flat since they'd gotten back from Norway, they still kept separate bedrooms, having agreed to take things slow and maintain a few basic boundaries. Their separation had been a great deal longer for Rose than it had been for the Doctor. More than six years had passed in her universe, compared to the Doctor's two. He very much respected the fact that her life was just that—hers—and he wasn't about to come clodhopping into it, creating chaos and conflict in the process. For the time being, he was very intentionally following her lead.

For Rose's part, she recognized the need for this arrangement. It had occurred to her more than once that if the Doctor hadn't been a homeless, penniless former Time Lord, they probably wouldn't have moved in together right away. But they'd always shared their space when she was living on the TARDIS, with the exception of separate bedrooms, so having him living there didn't feel uncomfortable or unnatural. And she didn't like imagining saying goodnight to him on the doorstep, and then closing the door behind her, alone, leaving him to wander back to his own place. She wanted to be with him. So she was immensely pleased—even relieved—when he'd accepted her offer to stay with her.

But now that they were in the suite, Rose with the door closed behind her and standing alone in her own room, she felt a little twinge of disappointment. Part of it, she realized was that she was worried about the Doctor. She could tell he wasn't feeling well, that he was having another one of his headaches. He'd been trying to hide them from her, but she could tell. He would get a certain furrow in his brow, and she'd see him flexing his jaw repeatedly, or hunching his shoulders unconsciously, the tension spreading throughout his body.

But she also was lamenting their separation because she missed his companionship. She'd only felt that way a few times in the flat, but it was her home, a place where solitude had been the established norm. Here she felt lonely. For the first time since the Doctor had come back, she felt really, properly lonely, and she wanted to be with him again.

She sighed. _It's just a bit of separation anxiety, that's all._ Shrugging the feeling off as she had learned to do over the years, she laid her suitcase and garment bag on the seafoam bedspread, zipping them open and sorting through her clothes and other personal items, organizing them into drawers or hanging things up in the closet for easier access during their two week excursion.

She took her toiletries into the loo and inspected herself in the mirror. She quickly brushed her teeth, then began freshening her makeup and letting down her hair, running a brush through it and flipping it until she got the desired effect. She exchanged her oversized jumper for a white camisole and cornflower blue jacket, and tied a gauzy pink and yellow scarf in her hair, securing her fringe against the strong breezes she was certain to encounter on the deck. The tails of the scarf stuck out the bottom on the right side, peeking over her shoulder playfully.

When she came out of her own room the Doctor was still in his, so she browsed the bookshelf casually while she waited, looking for interesting titles. There were a few she recognized. A handful of Jane Austen books, some Poe. To Kill A Mockingbird— _I really must read that one again!_ —and surprisingly, several science fiction offerings. Mostly Asimov, but a couple by Vonnegut as well, and a handful of others she didn't recognize. She came to a row of sailing books, which piqued her interest, considering her current setting. A book on knots, another full of poems about sailing and other sea themes.

One book in particular, a thin paperback, struck her fancy, and she plucked it off the shelf and flopped down on the plush cream colored couch, examining the cover. It had a fairly generic watercolor of a sailing ship on a calm sea. The title read _The Whistling Woman: Myths, Legends, and Superstitions at Sea_. She chuckled to herself and flipped to the table of contents.

-

As soon as the Doctor had gone into his room and shut the door, he dropped his luggage and crawled onto the mustard colored bedspread, burying his face in the pillow, just lying there for a few minutes, breathing in and out slowly in an effort to ease the pressure in his head. He then got up gingerly and retrieved one of his bags, the smaller one, and took it into the loo. Rifling through it, he pulled out a pill bottle and tapped four tablets into his palm, staring at them for a few moments before popping them and washing them down with water from the sink. He examined himself in the mirror, finding himself surprised that he didn't look worse. He looked a little tired, but that was to be expected after getting up at such an ungodly hour.

His hair was a little flat, so he fluffed it up a bit, checking his teeth, straightening his collar and smoothing down the front of his shirt. He nodded at his reflection in relative approval and returned to the bedroom to unpack his things.

When he emerged, he found Rose sitting on one of the couches reading a book. Without looking up from the page, she said, “Doctor, did you know that it's considered bad luck to have a woman on board?” She glanced up at him and grinned salaciously. “Unless she's naked.”

The Doctor's eyes widened and he grinned crookedly. “Those naughty sailors,” he chuckled.

Rose laughed. “Seriously! Who comes up with this stuff? Oh, and you'll like this. Bananas? Bad luck on board.”

“No!” the Doctor drawled in horror. “That's not possible. I've only had good things happen to me when bananas were part of the equation.”

“Yeah, but were you on a ship?”

“I was on a space ship, does that count?”

“Hmm, no, I think this is just about boats.”

“Well, Rose Tyler, I guess you'll have to be my bad luck charm this trip. Unless...” he looked her up and down with a cheeky grin, bouncing his eyebrows.

She laughed. “Maybe later.” She closed the book and stood up, sashaying over to him.

He frowned. “Maybe?”

“Definitely.” She said, biting her bottom lip and studying his mouth seductively. “But right now, I want to go exploring.” She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. “You know, I wasn't so sure about this cruise thing, but I'm starting to think it might be fun.”

“Well, Rose Tyler, you're here. That makes fun a given!”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose explore the ship, and do a little sleuthing.

It may not have been as big as the TARDIS, but the Doctor and Rose were rather pleasantly surprised at just how much the ship had to offer. They spent the entire first day exploring the ship, maps in hand, each picking out which spots looked most interesting to them. They caught a few shuttles along the way, which cut down immensely on time. After exploring the rather impressive Central Park amidships— _“I had no idea they had entire woodland parks on cruise ships! That's just crazy!” Rose exclaimed_ —they found themselves famished, so they browsed their maps looking for a good restaurant before settling on a Thai place on one of the upper decks. A walk around the area followed, where they discovered a spa and several gift shops. There were people everywhere, most of them clearly very wealthy, clad in expensive tailored garments, arms weighed down by shopping bags already, despite the fact that it was only the first day. Rose and the Doctor found a bench to people watch for a bit, his arm around her shoulders, her head leaning into his neck.

“Well, Doctor? What do you think? Almost as good as an alien planet?”

“Oh, well, all the planets are alien to me. Earth always was my favorite though. So much diversity! You don't have to wander far before you feel like you're on another world entirely.” He smiled down at her and softly dragged his thumb up and down her bare shoulder. Rose had taken off her jacket halfway through their walk through the park, and now it lay folded on the bench beside her.

She chuckled. “That's funny. You know, you get so used to being human, and seeing how the world is, none of it feels very alien. I mean we all got different cultures and everything, but everywhere you go, people are basically the same.”

“Yeah, but still! So many different colors and styles, traditions, rituals, cultures and subcultures, clashing opinions, clashing wardrobes, clashing personalities, different skin, different hair, different preferences and orientations... it's amazing! It wasn't like that at all on my home planet. Everything was very uniform, very linear. To differ was to dissent.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp click of the teeth.

“Well, some places on Earth are like that.”

“Not to quite the same extreme.”

Rose wiggled closer, nudging her head into his jaw affectionately. “Well, I'm glad you're happy here then.”

“Yeah.. yeah, I'm happy here. With you. Brilliant.” He turned and dotted her forehead with a little kiss.

As he glanced up, something caught his eye. He grew still, shoulders suddenly taut, the casual up and down tickle of his thumb on her shoulder ceasing. Rose sat up, looking at him. “What is it, Doctor?”

“That man... I saw him down at the park, and he was at the restaurant as well...” He nodded towards a man standing in front of a bookshop, browsing a large volume out of the bargain bin by the door. He was tall, thick-shouldered, his graying hair cropped close to the scalp and a pair of sunglasses perched on his sloping, ample nose. He was dressed unremarkably in a pale gray t-shirt, dark jeans, and white trainers, and was very carefully not looking away from the pages before him.

“Maybe it's just a coincidence. I mean, it's a big ship, but it's not exactly London or anything.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow, unresponsive at first as he chewed the inside of his bottom lip. “Maybe. Dunno. Sorta gives me a vibe though.”

“A vibe?” Rose chuckled.

He frowned down at her. “Yes, Rose. A _vibe_. I get _vibes_ , same as anyone.”

She sucked in her bottom lip. “Okay. A vibe. Well, you want to test this stalker theory of yours?”

“You know me so well, Ms. Tyler.” He bumped shoulders with her. She laughed.

“Okay, how should we do this?”

“Not sure... we could double back, maybe? I mean what are the chances he'd want to revisit a place he'd already been today?”

“All right. Back to the park, then.”

“Righty-o!”

They took a lift down a few levels, followed by a quick shuttle to the park, which occupied nearly the entire floor, with the exception of some Central Park themed gift shops and restaurants near each of the four entrances. It was encased in a massive glass dome, with a huge sculpted metal sign that read _Central Park: Starboard Entrance_ in a sweeping arch over the glass doors. They hopped off the shuttle and walked down the brick path to the doors and stepped inside.

It was about five degrees cooler inside the park. The ship's botanists kept everything at an even, ideal temperature of 20 degrees Celsius. Artificial sunlight filtered down through the tree branches, and the plant life around them was lush and thriving.

“Well, here we are. Where to next?” Rose slipped her jacket back on, extricating her hair and scarf.

“We could visit the Japanese garden again. You were the most excited about that, so if our mystery man has lost track of us, he might look there first.”

She smiled. “No arguments from me.”

Their hands magnetically wove together and they began walking down the trail that forked off to the left, where a sign indicated it would lead them to the Japanese gardens. The path meandered alongside a dark, still pond that was festooned with huge clusters of waterlilies, duckweed sprinkled throughout like confetti. Carefully pruned topiary stood in tall clusters, reminding Rose of Doctor Seuss foliage. The path was sheltered by the spreading branches of Japanese maples, shafts of light beaming down from the cleverly camouflaged artificial sun lamps. It was beautiful. One almost forgot they were on a ship at all.

“Have you ever visited the Butchart Gardens in Canada, Rose?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Never.”

“Oh, we really must go sometime. If it exists here, that is. It's brilliant. Just brilliant! The Sunken Gardens alone are worth the ticket. Imagine climbing an ordinary looking hill, and you get to the top and find yourself on the edge of a cliff. And spread out before you in the valley below is the most beautiful garden you've ever seen. Trees and flowers, rock formations being taken over by moss and spilling over with vines and shrubs... you've never seen anything like it.”

“Sounds gorgeous!” She swayed into him and put her free hand on his arm affectionately. “I hope Pete's World has one. We should look it up later. I brought my laptop.” She smiled.

“'Course you did! You take that thing everywhere. Blimey, you'd think it was a life support system.”

“Well, Doctor, you never know when you need to look up the filmography of your favorite actor because you need to recommend one of his films, but for the life of you you can't remember the title.”

“You could do that on your phone.”

“Well, there are also the work documents.”

“And solitaire.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Blimey, Rose, how can you play solitaire? It's so boring!”

“Doctor—”

“It's pure luck, there's no strategy to it whatsoever.”

“Doctor, listen—”

“Now minesweeper, on the other hand, that's a game—”

“Doctor, I think I saw him!” Rose whispered sharply, trying not to look apprehensive and keeping a steady pace as they walked. He didn't miss a beat and kept on walking.

“Where?”

“It was when we turned that corner, around the topiary. I caught his reflection in the pond. Oh god, he really is following us. What for?”

“Should we ask him?”

Rose furrowed her brow. “I don't know. Maybe not. Not yet, anyway.”

The Doctor frowned skeptically. “Better to pretend he's not there but constantly be looking over our shoulders?”

Rose bit her bottom lip. “No. But let's wait until we've at least got a little more information. I mean what do we even say to him? We have nothing to leverage him with.”

“Well, in that case...” The Doctor let go of her hand and spun around, heading back the way they'd come. Rose's eyebrows shot sky high in surprise as she hastened to follow. They approached their follower and the Doctor roughly bumped into him. “Oh, I'm so sorry! You all right? How clumsy of me!” He reached out to smooth the man's shirt.

“Oi, get off, mate!” the man said irately, pushing past them and scurrying away.

“Sorry!” the Doctor called after him with exaggerated amiability. “Good day to you!”

“Doctor! What are you doing?” Rose hissed.

“Oh nothing,” he said with a grin as he held up his hand, waving an object in front of her. “Just lifting his wallet.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Rose's eyes widened. “Oh my god, Doctor!”

“Ha!” he laughed, quickly shoving it in his pocket. “Come on, let's go.”

-

Rose and the Doctor bounced into their suite, slamming the door behind them and locking it. They looked at each other and burst out laughing, Rose wiping the heel of her palm across her forehead, still bewildered by what had just happened.

“I can't believe you did that!” she said, sounding as discombobulated as she was amused. She pulled the gauzy scarf out of her hair and threw it on the nearest chair along with her purse and jacket.

“Oh, 'course you can!” he replied dismissively, laughter in his voice. “Shall we have a look?” He pulled the wallet free of his trousers and began unfolding it.

Rose gaped at him. “Doctor, that man is going to report us!”

“No he won't! We'll just have a look and then hand it in to the lost and found. We'll say it fell out of his pocket when he ran off, and we couldn't find him to give it back.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “That doesn't mean he's not going to turn us in.”

“Nah, never happen. Criminals don't turn people in. Draws too much attention to themselves.”

Rose's eyes drifted down to the wallet in his hand. “Well... he was sort of stalking us, after all.”

“Exactly. We're just doing a bit of sleuthing, nothing more.” He plopped down on the larger of the two couches in the sitting area and tossed his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. Rose followed and sat next to him, peering over his arm at the wallet as he pulled the man's identification card out. “Scott Crowder. Forty-seven years old. Look at this seal—what does that mean?”

“Yeah, ID cards are a bit different here. That seal indicates he's retired from the British Armed Forces.”

“Ah, a soldier. Now, why would a soldier be following us around on a cruise ship?” The Doctor scratched the back of his head, tossing the ID card on the coffee table and riffling through the other items in his wallet. They found some sandwich shop punch cards, a photograph of a little girl, a weapon's permit, a twenty pound note, bank cards, and a folded up restaurant receipt, with a room number scribbled on the back. Room 117A. The Doctor and Rose's room.

“Okay,” Rose said slowly. “If I had any doubts before, I don't now. Why does that man have our room number in his wallet?”

The Doctor flipped over the receipt. “And why did he eat at Chili's? Blech!”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Really? There's a Chili's on board?”

The Doctor pulled out his map and examined it. “Hmm, yes. In the Family Zone.”

“Let me see that,” she said as she snatched the receipt off the Doctor's lap to examine it. "It's dated yesterday. He was on board the day before launch. How does that work?"

“Maybe he's a plain-clothes employee.”

“Undercover employee?” she said doubtfully. "Bit weird."

“Ex-military cruise ship employee following us around undercover...” The Doctor leaned forward. “Rose, is it possible anyone on board knows you work for Torchwood? Any connections Pete might have?”

Rose stiffened and shook her head. “It's not exactly information that gets thrown around.”

The Doctor hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he weighed his words carefully. “What if... Pete is having us followed?”

Rose drew back with an irritated frown. “What? Why would he do that?”

“Dunno. But he's the only one who knows we're here, knows you work for Torchwood, and knows I'm... well, not _exactly_ human.”

“Yeah, that is interesting,” Rose said coolly, eyes narrowed into slits. “Except for one thing.”

“What?” the Doctor asked cautiously, feeling a decidedly unpleasant tension build in the room.

“He hasn't got a reason to do that, it's ridiculous.”

He held up his hands defensively. “Maybe not that you know of. Just try to be objective here, Rose.”

“No, you try to be objective," she hissed, crossing her arms. "You can't seem to get it through your head that Torchwood here is different. It's not the same creepy, underhanded, morally bankrupt institute that it was in our world. We do good work here. We help people, and aliens. But you seem determined to see the worst.”

The Doctor sighed. “Rose, it's not that, really. I'm just looking for what's most likely, that's all. We have to consider every possibility, not just the ones that don't make us uncomfortable.”

Rose sighed and looked away darkly.

After an awkward silence, the Doctor ran a hand down his face and said, “Okay, forget about Pete and Torchwood. What other possibilities are we looking at? Employee, undercover, ex military, father—or uncle, perhaps?—that likes sandwiches and bad burgers, apparently...”

Rose chewed her bottom lip, clearly still miffed. “What did he order at Chili's?” she said with a sigh.

"Rose, please... I'm sorry."

"What did he order?" she repeated, her tone softening, the tension in the room slowly dissolving.

The Doctor scanned the receipt again. “Iced tea.”

“Just iced tea?”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the P.

Rose unfolded her arms and leaned forward. “Nobody goes to a restaurant and orders nothing but iced tea, unless they're only there to meet someone.”

He grinned slowly and raised his eyebrows. “Rose Tyler, are you deducting?”

“Interested in doing a little Q and A, Doctor?” She cocked her head back.

“I thought you'd never ask,” he replied with a grin.

-

After they used Rose's mobile to take some closeup snapshots of the photo on Crowder's ID card, as well as front and back photos of the rest of the wallet's contents—just in case—they reassembled everything and called to the service staff, explaining that they'd found someone's wallet and needed to turn it in. They received directions to the nearest lost and found depository.

It was nearly dinner time now. The Doctor and Rose changed their clothes into something more suitable for the cooler evening temperatures. He kept the same blue pinstriped pants, but now he wore the matching jacket, pulling on a black overcoat as well. Rose changed into black trousers that accentuated all the right curves, black leather mid-calf boots with two inch heels, a silvery silk blouse with pearl buttons, and a black and gray houndstooth coat. She pulled her hair up into a simple, sleek twist with a spray of hair coming out the back, and freshened her makeup.

They carefully locked up their room and made their way to the lost and found to drop off the wallet, then went topside to dine while watching the sun set.

“It's beautiful,” Rose said softly, holding the Doctor's hand across the table, staring out at the sun as it sank behind the endless sea. The sky was a massive paint stroke of vivid coral red fringed with lavender, fading to dark gray above, where she could see the first stars blinking into wakefulness.

The Doctor's silence pulled her attention away from the view. She looked at him. He, too, was staring at the sky, but his gaze was fixed higher, where the darkness grew and the stars were appearing, more and more visible with every moment. The fading light, so low on the horizon, threw long, harsh shadows over his face, underscoring his expression of profound longing and genuine sadness. Rose felt her heart crack with helplessness and she looked away, pretending not to notice.

Several more moments passed before the Doctor drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, Rose, should we make our way down to the, ah, Family Zone?”

Rose nodded, feeling subdued but trying to muster up some emotional energy—at least enough to conceal her sullen mood. “Yep!” she said, popping the P in the same manner the Doctor often did. “Ready for anything!”

They left a generous tip for the server and made their way below, finding a shuttle and settling in. Between pedestrian traffic and stops, it would take them about twenty minutes to make it down to the Family Zone, which was all the way to the fore—the complete opposite end of the ship to where Rose and the Doctor were staying.

The shuttle ran parallel to the deck railings, separated from immediate views only from the sidewalk, swarming with people taking pictures, pointing out at the water when they thought they'd seen something, or just relishing the breeze. The further forward they got, the more casual people seemed. They spotted more jeans and t-shirts, off the rack sundresses and department store brands. There were also more children the further they went. It was evident that this was where the middle class families typically booked their rooms, as it catered more to their demographic. There were a few arcades, a cinema that was running Disney and Pixar titles, a waterpark, a trampoline house—“Oh look, Rose! Trampolines! Let's!” the Doctor had begged, until she reminded him they were on a mission—and finally they arrived at a plaza full of family friendly restaurants. Among them, sandwiched between seafood and pizza, was Chili's.

“Here's our stop!” the Doctor announced. He activated the buzzer, letting the driver know they wanted off.

As they were stepping down, Rose asked, “When does shuttle service end?”

“Ten o'clock, miss,” the driver replied.

“Have you got the time?”

“Quarter past nine.”

She thanked him and hopped down. The shuttle drove away, leaving them standing in the plaza. There were several families, but it looked to Rose like things were slowly dying down as the evening grew later. She and the Doctor walked across the cobbled plaza and stepped inside, immediately assaulted by the aroma of greasy, salty food, accompanied by the sounds of cranky children and loud pop music. The lighting was somewhat dim and yellow. As they approached the host's table, a server carrying a tray of fried cheese and artichoke dip hurried by. The host, bent over a basket full of menus that she was wiping down with a sanitary cloth, sensed their approach and turned around, drying her hands on her apron and giving them her best practiced smile.

“Hi there, table for two?”

Rose smiled. “Actually, we had a couple of questions. You were serving customers yesterday, even though passengers weren't boarding until today?”

The host nodded. “Yes, we serve staff in the days leading up to departure. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we think someone ate here, and we're just trying to find him. His name is Scott Crowder. Were you here yesterday?”

“I wasn't, but I know who Scott Crowder is. He's one of the Captain's personal assistants. I'm not really sure what he does, but he's always on board.”

“Do you know who was working yesterday?” the Doctor asked. “Are any of them here now?”

“Sarah was here.”

“Did she work the lunch hour?”

The girl hesitated. Rose sensed the woman was beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the questions. She smiled softly, in what she hoped was a disarming way. “Maybe we could talk to Sarah. Maybe... if you seat us in her section? We don't mean to cause any trouble, we just want to ask her a few questions, that's all.”

The girl chewed her lip indecisively before finally nodding. “All right. She's clearing up a table now if you want to wait a moment.”

“That'd be great, thank you,” the Doctor said with one of his more charming grins. The girl blushed and smiled, bottom lip caught in her teeth.

They sat down in the waiting area and Rose jabbed the Doctor in the ribs with her elbow.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“What was that smile for?”

“I was just trying to establish a little trust.”

“You oaf. What you just did was establish a signal, if you know what I mean.”

“A signal? What's that supposed to mean? ...Oh...” The Doctor reddened and pulled at his collar. “Right. A signal. Er... sorry, Rose.”

She laughed. “Never mind me, that girl's getting ready to flirt now. I suggest you avoid eye contact.”

The Doctor swallowed thickly and suddenly seemed to find his knees very captivating.

A few minutes later, the host came over. “Your table's ready, sir,” she said, eyes lidded. Rose thought she detected a slight sultry edge to the host's voice, and a hint of breath mint wafted her way. She rolled her eyes and kicked the Doctor's ankle.

“Ow!” He glared at her. “Thank you,” he said to the host, head turned, but giving Rose the side eye. They stood and followed the girl to their table. She set down napkins and silverware. “Enjoy your dinner,” she said, lingering for half a moment to bat her eyes at the Doctor before sauntering away.

The Doctor glanced down at his napkin and his eyes bulged. “God help me,” he muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

“What?” Rose glanced down at the napkin, reaching over and snatching it away before the Doctor could stop her. It had writing on it. “Regina 020-8360-7651...” She looked up at the Doctor, who was staring at the tabletop, cheek muscles clenched, his face roughly the color of a raspberry. Rose burst out laughing. “Doctor, if you could see your face!”

“Shut up...” He dropped his face into his hands, elbows propped on the table. “Blimey, this human nonsense is complicated.”

A woman approached the table—curvy, mid to late twenties, with a disarming air of practicality. Her brown hair was swept up in a ponytail, and she wore the server's black polo and apron with a Chili's logo machine embroidered on the pocket. “Hi folks, I'm Sarah, I'll be your server today. Can I get you started with some drinks?” Her accent was American, northwestern by the sound of it.

“Hi, Sarah,” Rose replied, after a glance at the Doctor. He was still hiding his face. “Actually, we're here to ask a few questions, if you don't mind.”

She glanced around her section before shrugging. “Sure, fire away.”

“I'm given the understanding that you worked here yesterday, serving the crew. Did you serve a man named Scott Crowder?”

“Yeah, I served Scott. He wasn't here long though. I got the impression he was just dropping by to talk to this one other guy who was there. Didn't even drink his tea.”

“Who was he with?”

Sarah shrugged. “I'm not sure, I didn't recognize him.”

“Did you get his name, by any chance?”

“No, he paid in cash and left shortly after Scott did.” She frowned. “What's this all about?”

The Doctor slowly wiped his hands down his face, looking over meekly. “It sounds much worse than it is, but the simple fact is me and Rose here were being followed around all day by this Scott Crowder bloke, and we're just trying to figure out why. He wrote our room number on the back of his Chili's receipt, that's why we came here.”

“That's weird...” Sarah replied, looking uncomfortable if not a little creeped out. "Wait, how'd you get his receipt?"

"He dropped his wallet at the park, and the receipt fell out." Rose said, glancing at the Doctor.

"Yes," he nodded. "What she said."

Sarah crinkled her brow and shrugged a little. “Well... I mean Scott's sort of an odd guy, but he's really just Captain Levy's hired goon. He does odd jobs for him here and there, but mostly he's there for protection. A few years ago, the Captain was assaulted by one of the passengers, a real nutty guy. Not sure if he was off his meds or what, but he wasn't making sense at all. Kept talking about seeing ghosts and stuff. Anyway, after that, the Captain hired Scott, and keeps him around for muscle, but every once in a while he has him do other stuff, too. I dunno what exactly, but you'll see him around all over.”

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. “Well, that is interesting. And how about this mystery bloke he was talking to yesterday? What did he look like?”

“He was a white dude, really tall, dark hair with sort of a receding hairline, you know? Real thin on top.” She swept her fingertips across the top of her head. “He looked like maybe about fifty. Scott didn't look happy talking to the guy. I didn't hear anything they said though. I kinda try to avoid that stuff with customers. Makes me cringe, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Rose said. “Anything else you could tell us? Like his voice, what did it sound like, did he have a particular accent...?”

“He was a Brit like most of our passengers. I don't really remember his voice, just kind of, you know, average, I guess.”

“Was there anyone else here that might remember him?”

“No, it was just me and Steph. It's a skeleton crew pre-boarding. She was working the other section, and it's by the kitchen, so she wasn't over here even once.”

“What table did they sit at?” the Doctor asked curiously.

“Table ten, that one there,” she pointed to a booth on the perpendicular wall, about four tables away from them, currently occupied by a young couple with a curly-haired toddler who was making a catastrophe out of his plate of mashed potatoes.

“All right, thank you, Sarah.” The Doctor grabbed Rose's napkin and snatched Sarah's pen out of her apron pocket. “If you remember anything else, or if you see that same man again, please give us a ring at this number, or just ring our room.” He handed the napkin and pen back.

She looked at the napkin, which read _The Doctor and Rose Tyler_ , followed by Rose's mobile number and their room number. “Sure, if I remember.”

“Thanks so much, you've been such a help,” Rose said with a smile, dropping a substantial tip on the table as she got up. “We've got to catch a shuttle before they stop running, so we'll be off. Have a nice evening, yeah?”

Sarah glanced wide eyed at the tip. "Oh yeah, definitely. You too!" She grinned.

“Ta,” the Doctor added as they walked out. Rose noticed that he deliberately stared at his trainers and turned that same raspberry shade as they walked past Regina's station. She couldn't help but grin, though she did manage to stifle a fit of laughter.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has a rough night. He and Rose discuss their next move over breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains content that pertains to my previous fanfic, "Self Division", which was a Journey's End fixit. It's explained pretty clearly in this chapter, but Self Division needs a thorough rewrite before I post it here. If you have any questions, LMK!

Twenty-two days prior, when the Doctor's severed hand in a jar had begun shimmering and swirling with regeneration energy, Donna Noble was absolutely certain she was going to die. Still, she watched in wonder, both terrified and utterly enchanted, and for reasons she couldn't quite solidify into comprehensible thought, she felt drawn to it. Somehow, it just felt right. _Come closer. Come closer. Reach out. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me..._

So she did.

Several things happened in that instant, all of them important, but one thing in particular came as a complete surprise to the Doctor, when he discovered it later that day. The Doctor knew, of course, that his diverted regeneration energy had triggered a biological metacrisis. His consciousness divided and created a new body for itself. But because the Doctor's old severed hand was only a hand and nothing more, the metacrisis required a genetic contribution. It borrowed DNA from Donna Noble when physical contact occurred. The metacrisis Doctor was part human.

What the Doctor hadn't realized, however, was that as a two way biological metacrisis, Donna Noble's consciousness had also divided. Not only had a physical part of herself gone into the creation of this new new _new_ Doctor, but her consciousness had as well.

So when one Donna Noble boarded the TARDIS and disappeared from Pete's World forever, another Donna remained—literally trapped inside the part human Doctor's mind.

In the time since, that particular tidbit of information had mostly receded into the murky depths of the duplicate Doctor's subconscious. He was preoccupied with settling in, not to mention figuring out how to survive his TARDIS withdrawals without putting all that stress on Rose. Though he did think about it on occasion, he was always too busy or feeling too low to put any deep thought into it. He figured at some point he would need to set aside some time to be alone, where he could go into the necessary trance to access his deep subconscious and find her; check in on her; make sure she was okay. Every time he thought about this he felt his mood sinking. It was his fault she was trapped in there. Did she want out? Even if she did, how was that even a possibility? He despised the idea of her being stuck because of him. It wasn't fair, and he hated himself for it.

So when she appeared to him, without him seeking her out, he was understandably overcome with a strange mix of shock, relief, and almost overwhelmingly, guilt.

Of course he knew he was asleep. That part was obvious, largely due to the fact that he was standing in his old library on the TARDIS. It was the mental construct he'd always used to represent the core of his mind when he went into a trance, or during telepathic events. The room, bathed in a warm, soft glow from the fire crackling in the deeply recessed fireplace, had no corners, but likewise had no clear shape, other than what could be described as roundish. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and there was a huge map table in the center of the room. Maps, charts, globes, and atlases littered its surface. Beneath the mess, he could just see the glowing surface of the interactive tabletop. He could bring up any planet, any galaxy, any system on that table. It was all in his head of course, filed away carefully and well protected. This was merely how he accessed the information. Visualizing his thoughts and memories as physical objects or places made it easier to interact with them, analyze them, make use of them.

When he turned to look at the sitting area by the fire, he realized something was different. The room had changed, but he hadn't changed it. Someone else had entered his construct and...

“Redecorated?” he muttered incredulously. His tasteful antique couches were gone, and in their place sat a sectional.

A pink sectional.

And his beautifully carved myrtle burl coffee table had been replaced by a minimalist oval glass top. With fashion magazines.

He was so taken aback he almost didn't notice Donna herself, sitting on the sectional with her legs tucked up, flipping through an issue of People. She wore a simple outfit of jeans and gray top, and her hair hung loose around her face.

“Yes, Doctor, I redecorated,” she said flatly. “This place was so... old! It needed a little sprucing up. And it's not like I had anything better to do.”

The Doctor gaped, almost lost for words until he finally squeaked, “Donna!”

She looked up at him sullenly. “Yes, me, remember?”

The Doctor felt his face burn. It was like he'd actually been slapped. “Donna... Donna, I'm sorry.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied, tossing the magazine on the table. She patted the seat next to her and beckoned with a toss of her head. “Come on.”

The Doctor obeyed, easing himself hesitantly onto the couch, stiff with apprehension. He smiled weakly. “Er, the new couch isn't too bad. Kinda soft.”

“Yeah, I quite like it. The other one had springs poking me everywhere. Figured if I was going to be here for a while, I might as well get comfortable.”

The Doctor wiped a hand down his face. “Oh Donna, I am so sorry. It's all my fault.”

“Oh, don't start,” she said softly. Gentle and loving, and maybe even a little sympathetic. It was almost worse than being yelled at. “Sometimes things just happen. All right? Sometimes there isn't anyone to blame.”

-

The Doctor's eyes flew open and he gasped for air, coughing violently as he rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath. His head was screaming, the pressure almost unbearable, each heartbeat feeling like a pinball in his brain. He curled up, wrapping his arms around his head, burying his face in his elbows as he sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out in a thick, grating moan.

“Doctor... Doctor... what is it?”

_Rose._

Memories flooded back into the Doctor's mind in an instant. The two of them coming back to their suite and having a drink or two. Rose letting her hair down and leaning back on the couch with her fingers on her lips and that saucy smile, giggling as he bent down and kissed her shoulder where her blouse had slipped down, exposing the black strap of her lingerie...

His thoughts were interrupted by another surge of pain and pressure. He groaned feebly, pressing his palms against his eyes in an effort to fight it.

“God, it's another headache.” Rose's voice was tight and agitated. He felt her hand on his bare shoulder as he simply nodded. “What can I do?” She sounded helpless, almost desperate to be able to do something to ease his pain.

The Doctor took several deep, slow breaths, trying to calm himself and gain control. He gingerly propped himself up with his elbow. “No... it's okay. It's... a little better.” He wasn't being entirely truthful, but he hated seeing her so distraught. He sat up, feet making contact with the floor. The shift in elevation nearly sent him sprawling back on the bed as he shut his eyes tight and gritted his teeth against the massive wave of pain and pressure, starting at the top of his head and slowly washing down into his teeth, triggering a wave of nausea. He took another slow, deep breath and opened his eyes, turning his head just enough so Rose could hear him better. “Just gonna get a drink of water, be back in a tick.”

He slowly stood up, but before he took a step he remembered he was in Rose's room, not his.

“Er, it's a little chilly, I'm going to grab some clothes out of my room.”

“Okay...” Her voice was soft, wavering.

He could see her soft pale hair in the darkness, and the outlines of her creamy skin. She was sitting up, clasping the sheets against her collarbone to cover her breasts. Her right hip and part of her buttocks remained exposed. He hesitated a moment.

“Should I... do you want me to... I mean, I can stay in my own room. If you'd rather... I don't want to intrude on your—”

“Doctor, stop. Of course I want you to stay.”

He nodded, not really sure if she could see the gesture, but trusting she sensed it all the same. “I'll be right back then. Do you need anything while I'm up?”

“I'm worried about you," she blurted.

“It's okay, Rose. It's just a headache. I'll be fine. I'll take some aspirin.”

Before she could respond, he slipped out of her room and crossed the common area to his own.

In the loo, even the dim glow of the night light hurt his head. He let out a strained sigh and reached into the bag on the counter, pulling out the pill bottle he'd accessed earlier when they'd first arrived. He looked at it, eyes lingering on the Torchwood logo printed on the label before he squeezed his fingers around it, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. After a moment he reluctantly poured four of them into his palm, just as he'd been directed, and popped them, dipping his head under the faucet for a drink of water to wash them down. He splashed water on his face and dried off on the hand towel before going to his dresser for some jimjams. Not that he was actually cold.

As he sat on the bed to dress, an image from his dream suddenly flashed through his mind. Donna, sitting next to him on that pink couch, so kind and gentle, and overwhelmingly sad...

Guilt flooded through him and he sighed, bending his head and closing his eyes, trying to push the emotions back. He slipped into his jimjams and made his way back to Rose's room, crawling into the bed and snuggling into her. She rolled over and guided his head onto her shoulder, cradling him, stroking his hair even as she buried her face in it, blessing him with a few delicate kisses. The corner of his mouth brushed against her skin and he tilted his head to softly kiss her in return before closing his eyes, fighting desperately to ignore the pounding in his head as he slowly drifted back to sleep.

-

When the Doctor woke the next morning, the bed was empty, and the door was closed. He didn't move for several minutes as he stared at the wall, mind scrolling through the events of the night before, stopping to linger on some of the more pleasant memories. Rose's nude form recumbent on the mattress, for one thing. The salty taste of her lips, the feel of her body arching into his. The sound of her trembling voice whispering I love you in his ear.

His insides stirred warmly and he felt himself flush at the recollection. Rolling onto his back, he raised his arms above his head and stretched thoroughly as he stared at the ceiling, redirecting his thoughts.

What of Donna? He felt certain she was going to say more. What had caused him to waken so abruptly? It was as if his mind was resisting the contact. Like the feelings of guilt were making his subconscious shut down, literally pulling him out of sleep to avoid dealing with the situation. But if his subconscious was resisting so strongly, would going into a voluntary trance to find Donna even be effective? Or would his own mind push him out? And he was fairly certain that it was Donna who initiated the link the night before. Would she continue trying to contact him?

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face and tossing back the sheets, sitting up. There was a slight wave of pressure behind his eyes, but nothing compared to the night before. This was downright bearable.

After following the trail of discarded clothing, gathering the items as he went, he hesitated at the door, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious for reasons he couldn't quite clarify. He pushed the feeling away and opened the door slowly, stepping out.

He caught sight of Rose in her dressing gown, sitting upright on the couch, a book lolling in her grasp, head bent back against the headrest. She was snoring softly. The Doctor watched her for a few moments, chewing the inside of his lip, a melancholy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He crossed the common area to his room, discarding his clothes in a pile in the corner and grabbing a blanket out of the linen closet before heading back out. Carefully, gently, he guided Rose into a supine position, lifting her legs up onto the couch and easing the book out of her hand. She barely stirred, snuggling down into the cushions sleepily. He spread the blanket over her, making sure her feet were covered and adjusting the top so that the blanket was nice and snug. His hand lingered near her cheek, and he brushed a thumb along her jawline before giving her a tender kiss on the temple. “You're wonderful,” he whispered, caressing her hair and relishing the swell of love, of pure adoration and affection, that was stirring in his heart.

_How am I this lucky?_

-

After a shower, now dressed in black trousers with dark gray pinstripes, a gray button down with the sleeves rolled to mid forearm, and of course his favorite red Converse trainers, the Doctor called room service and ordered breakfast. It was nine o'clock; still plenty of time to recount what they'd learned yesterday, come up with a plan, and still have time for a little sunbathing later on. His imagination conjured images of Rose in a bathing suit. One of those two piece numbers, maybe with a sheer sarong that she'd remove when she wanted to tan. Maybe she'd swim later, wet hair clinging to her neck, droplets of water sliding languidly down her oiled sternum...

Clearing his throat, he firmly reined in his thoughts, walking across the room without purpose. His eyes landed on the book Rose had been reading, now resting on the coffee table, open and face down to save her place. He strolled over and picked it up. It was the same book she had been reading the day before. That book about superstitions and sea legends. Figuring it was as good a diversion as any, he sat down in a wing chair opposite the couch Rose was occupying, and started reading where she had left off.

_For Whom the Bell Tolls:  
To hear the peal of a bell at sea means that someone will surely die._

The room phone started ringing, and the Doctor nearly leaped out of his chair he was so startled, dropping the book and hastening to the phone as Rose began to stir. He answered on the third ring.

“Yes?”

“Hello, this is room service. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but our supply of bananas has been tainted somehow, and they've all gone bad. I'm afraid we won't be able to serve the banana parfaits you ordered. We're terribly sorry. Is there anything else we could bring you? A strawberry parfait perhaps? Or a mixed fruit salad?”

The Doctor blinked, nonplussed. “No... bananas?”

“I'm afraid not. I'm so sorry.”

He shrugged off the eerie discomfort that was trying to settle on his shoulders. “Oh... well... these things happen. The strawberry parfait will be fine.”

“Very good, sir. Again, sorry for the inconvenience. We will most certainly be restocking our supply at our next port of call, which is scheduled for tomorrow. Perhaps a banana parfait then.”

“Sounds lovely, thank you.”

He rang off just as Rose was walking over to him, her blanket pulled tight around her in a self hug. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

“Much better.” He squeezed her tight. “How about you? Are you okay? I found you on the couch earlier—well, obviously.”

“I couldn't sleep. And you were pretty fitful for a couple of hours after you came back to bed. When you finally settled down, I got up. I mean I really needed to use the loo, and then I just sat down and started reading. But I guess I drifted off.” She pulled back a little and waved a blanket-wrapped hand, smiling meekly. “Thanks for the blanket.”

He smiled halfheartedly and kissed her forehead, easing her back into his arms, her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he murmured.

“No, Doctor. Don't. It's not your fault, you have nothing to apologize for.” Her voice was gentle but firm.

“Well... I'll rephrase then. I feel bad that I made you worry.”

She didn't speak at first, leaning on him as they slowly swayed a little, an easy, comforting cadence. Finally she nodded. “It's okay. I don't mind the worrying. Just that there's something to worry about, that's all. What if it's worse than you think? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“We can talk about it later. For now, breakfast is on the way, and... well, what do you make of everything we discovered yesterday?”

She frowned into his neck, disappointed and a little frustrated, but pulled away again with a straight face, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders. “After sleeping on it, I'd say... well, I haven't come up with anything new. Not factually, at any rate. I mean, my imagination goes all sorts of places...”

“Well, how about you get ready for the day, and then we can swap ideas over strawberry parfaits?”

Rose grinned crookedly. “What, no banana?”

“Alas, no!” he said with a grimace. “They called up and said their whole supply was spoiled.”

She blinked in surprise. “The whole lot?” A slow smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, Doctor, do you remember that thing about bananas being bad luck on board?” She laughed. “Maybe it's just as well.”

He frowned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, now! Rose Tyler, you're above silly superstitions.”

She threaded her tongue between her teeth, eyes twinkling. “All the same, you gotta admit it's kinda eerie. I mean we read that thing about bananas, and not twenty-four hours later, the whole supply's gone bad. That's pretty weird.”

He glanced at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze. “Oh, all right, I admit it did cross my mind.” His eyes locked onto hers. “Purely from the coincidence of it, mind you! I refuse to be frightened of a banana just because we're on a boat. Blimey, the boat's so big it's practically a continent, so even if the superstitions were true, I don't think they apply here.”

Rose laughed out loud, bumping her head into his shoulder affectionately. “All right, Doctor, you do make a fair point there.” She reached up and gave him a soft kiss. “I'm off then. Won't be long.”

-

The Doctor was just finished transferring their breakfast from the food service cart to the table when Rose emerged wearing knit jersey shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, sans makeup, her hair wrapped in a towel. “I smelled breakfast, and suddenly couldn't think about anything else! I'll get dressed after.” She plopped down at the table and began unfolding her cloth napkin.

“I hope you like what I ordered,” the Doctor said, sitting down opposite her. “I was just sort of guessing.”

Rose lifted the silver cover off her plate to find a beautiful truffle omelette with a side of sausages and several rashers of bacon. “Oh, this is perfect, Doctor! You have excellent taste.”

“'Course I do." He poured them each a cup of tea, pouring milk in hers and adding several sugars to his own. “There's also toast, if you like, and scones. And the parfaits, of course.” He lifted a parfait cup and inspected it. “Strawberry with vanilla yogurt and honey, and what's this...? Toasted coconut sprinkled on top! Oh, Rose, it's like dessert at breakfast! Brilliant!”

“You know, I don't think I've ever actually eaten a parfait,” Rose replied as she spread butter and jam on her toast, biting into it with a crunch.

“What?” The Doctor was appalled. “Never? Oh, Rose Tyler, all those missed opportunities...”

“Such is life.” She swallowed and licked the sticky, buttery residue from her lips. “All right, then, Doctor. Let's talk about yesterday.”

The Doctor had just swallowed his first bite of parfait and was licking the spoon. “Mmm. Lovely. Banana would have been better, but this works in a pinch.”

“Doctor? Yesterday?”

He dropped his spoon and sat up straighter with a deep breath. “Right! Yesterday. You know, I got to thinking about that fellow Crowder met with. The description is pretty generic. I mean I've met half a dozen people like that just walking around this part of the ship. But then it occurred to me. I bet they've got him on surveillance video.” He grinned.

Rose lit up. “Of course, oh my god, why didn't we think of that before? Couple of numbskulls, we are.”

“Nah, we're just on holiday. Too many distractions...” he smiled cheekily as he leaned forward, elbows on the table as his hands mindlessly massaged each other. His eyes roamed down her figure scandalously.

“Doctor, try to focus,” she said, blushing, though she had an impish gleam in her eye, her mouth spread in a wide grin, tongue in teeth.

“Oh, I'm focused...”

She cleared her throat. “Doctor! Really now.”

He wrenched his eyes away from her curves and back to her bright eyes. “Right. Sorry. You're just _so_ lovely...”

“You know, we were talking about something else. Do try to remember,” she said, mock-serious.

“Something else... Nope. I only remember Rose Tyler.”

She laughed, slightly exasperated. “Surveillance camera!”

“Right! Right! Surveillance camera.” He sat up straighter and adjusted his collar absently. “We need to find out where they have all that stuff.”

“Well, when I worked at the shop they had a whole security room, but it was a pretty big place. Little restaurants and things, I think they just keep a few monitors back in the manager's office. They might even tape over old footage.”

He nodded slowly. “Hmm... well, it's still worth a little snooping.”

“What about ship surveillance though?” She took a bite of parfait and her eyes brightened. “Oh, that's gorgeous...”

“See? I told you!” He grinned. “But yes! Ship surveillance, that's not a bad idea, is it? If Chili's doesn't keep their videos, the ship's security crew would certainly keep theirs.”

“What if we got Sarah to help ID him? If they've got him on tape, I mean.” She took another huge bite.

“Oh, that's good, Rose Tyler! And if not, maybe she wouldn't be opposed to joining us on a little security room escapade...” He reached over and swiped a thumb down the corner of her mouth. “Missed a spot.”

“Thanks. I think that might depend on if one of our _little escapades_ involves any B and E. She might not be too keen on risking her job for a couple of strangers.” She gestured to the Doctor's untouched plate. “You should eat that before it gets cold.”

The Doctor picked up his fork, stabbing at the eggs without commitment. “Breaking in might be all that's required for the restaurant, but ship's surveillance will require a little more nuance. Lucky for us, I still have my sonic screwdriver, _and_ my psychic paper!”

Rose gaped at him. “What? Doctor! When exactly were you planning on telling me that?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, never came up. I always kept a spare in my other suit. Got my stethoscope, too.” He grinned and bounced his eyebrows.

“You are incorrigible!”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor ask Sarah for help, and also enjoy a little sunbathing. But some strange things are starting to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, I made some minor edits to the dialog in chapter 2. It isn't anything plot related, it was just an issue with characterization.

The Doctor stood on the private balcony, waiting for Rose Tyler to finish getting ready. He leaned on the railing, watching the water churn away from the ship's hull, swirling into eternity in foamy white ribbons. A persistent sea breeze teased his hair and swept coolly across his cheekbones, turning them pink from the salt and the cold.

He was thinking about Donna at the moment, and trying to decide how to explain to Rose what had happened, feeling fairly certain he was making things more complicated than they needed to be, but simultaneously feeling incapable of simplifying. He didn't think Rose would be angry. She would be concerned, certainly. But he suspected she might resent the fact that he hadn't mentioned it before, and he was wondering to himself exactly why he hadn't. He wasn't being intentionally secretive, but things had been so chaotic since his arrival, it just hadn't come up. And now it felt like something he was keeping from her.

_:::You dumbo. Just tell her.:::_

The Doctor blinked, stumbling back from the railing.

_:::Doctor. Just trust her. The longer you wait, the worse you'll make it.:::_

He spun around, the heels of his palms pressing into his temples, eyes wide and unfocused.

_Donna?_

His thoughts felt like an echo bouncing around an empty cave. There was a low vibration at the base of his skull and an ache of pressure behind his eyes.

_Donna, answer me!_

_:::Doctor. May... she can help... know how... d... sh... you.:::_

The connection was fading, communication crumbling like static on a bad phone line.

_Donna, please listen to me. I'll find you! Please, just hold on. ...Donna?_

Nothing.

He exhaled sharply, not realizing he'd been holding his breath, sucking in a sobbing gasp of air as a tear born of the sheer intensity of the moment slid down his cheek.

-

Rose had changed into a pair of overalls with a white tee and trainers, dividing her hair into twin braids running down behind her ears. She shrugged into a pink hoodie and grabbed her bag on her way out the bedroom door, finding the Doctor waiting for her at the bar. He looked up and smiled without great energy.

“Ready?” he asked, standing and smoothing the front of his shirt.

Rose frowned. “You all right, Doctor? You look pale.”

“I'm fine. I think I'm just feeling the effects of last night.”

She put a hand on his arm. “We could stay in...”

He shook his head and smiled again, with more warmth this time. “Nah, a walk would probably do me good.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a little kiss. “Although...” he mumbled into her mouth, then caught her lips again, enjoying the taste and feel.

She smiled through the kiss. “Doctor... much as I'd like to stay for recreational purposes, we really should try to have a go at that tape if you're feeling up to it...”

“Mmm... yes... you're... probably... right,” he mumbled between the languid kisses he was trailing along her jaw and down her neck.

She laughed, pulling back to look in his eyes. “I'd love to get back to this later on though.” There was that saucy grin, tongue caught between her teeth, turning the Doctor's insides to jelly and causing his cheeks to bloom pink with the sheer thrill of it. Rose Tyler's plucky smile, full of whimsy and mischief and piquancy. She reached for the door handle as he slipped into his black and gray pinstriped jacket—soppy grin adorning his face—and followed her into the hallway. They strolled to the lift, riding it down to the proper deck where they boarded a shuttle to the Family Zone.

Once inside the restaurant, it didn't take them long to track down Sarah, who was busing a table near the bar.

“Sarah! Good to see you again!” the Doctor said, all grin as they approached. The woman looked up from the stack of dishes she was piling up on a tray and hesitated a moment before recognition illuminated her face.

“Oh yes! John Noble, and,” glancing over his shoulder at the energetic blond behind him, “Rose Tyler, wasn't it?”

“That's us!” Rose smiled, raising her hand in a sunny little wave.

Sarah straightened, dropping her washcloth on the table and using her apron to wipe her hands dry. “Can I help you with something?” She brushed a pesky wisp of hair out of her eyes and patted it against her head.

“We hope so,” the Doctor said. “Is there anyplace we could sit and talk for a moment, in private?”

The woman glanced around uncertainly. “Well... I can't really do that while I'm working, but I've got a break coming up in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, we can wait,” Rose said. “Come on, Doctor.” She grabbed him by the arm. “We'll just be outside.”

They exited the restaurant and occupied a bench that was situated a few doors down from Chili's. The Doctor slouched, stretching his legs straight out in front of him and crossing his ankles, fingers threaded into each other across his abdomen. Rose sat semi-sideways, arm propped on the back of the bench, resting her head on it like a pillow. They couldn't see the water from the bench, but the sky was clear and blue, and the sun was glinting off the glossy white paint of the ship's railing, scattering streaked bands of reflected light—some dancing about on the deck, others clinging to the metal sheets of the canopy above. A couple of seagulls wheeled past, a third landing nearby, hopping around in search of scraps. 

The Doctor paid little attention to any of this, however. He was drifting. Rose could practically feel the energy around him turning inward.

“Doctor,” Rose said softly after several moments, reaching out and touching his hands. It broke the spell and he looked over, blinking and drawing in a deep breath.

“Hmm?”

“Something bothering you?”

He smiled and sat up straighter. “No, of course not! I'm fine! I'm good.” He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

She recognized it for what it was. The hasty, over-eager assurance, sealed with a kiss. Rose glanced down. “You can tell me, you know.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “You can talk to me. About anything.”

He smiled again. “Of course. I know that, Rose.”

“But will you? Talk to me, I mean. I... want you to.”

He furrowed his brow, disentangling his fingers to cup her cheek, lightly sweeping his thumb back and forth. “Of course I will.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time, then pulled away with a puzzled smile on his face. “What brought this on?”

She half smiled and looked at her hands, fidgeting with her nails. “Nothing, I... I just wanted to make sure you understood that, that's all. I mean, completely. I'm always available. I want you to know that. I mean really know.”

The Doctor's smile slowly faded as he stared into her eyes. He read worry and deep hurt in them, and his chest tightened with guilt. Did she think he didn't trust her? After several moments, he finally nodded. A sober, faint nod. “I do.”

She was about to speak again when Sarah walked up at a brisk pace. “Okay, I've got ten minutes. What's up?” She brushed hair out of her face and rested her hands on the back of her hips casually.

Rose stood quickly, her demeanor shifting to friendly and warm. “Of course. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us. We'll try to be quick. We just really need to find out who that gentleman was—the man who met with Mr. Crowder. And we think there's a way you might be able to help.” She smiled.

The Doctor was taken aback by this sudden change in Rose, studying her out of the corner of his eye as he stood. She'd always been resourceful, but this was truly a remarkable mood swing. She was exhibiting impressive emotional control. Was this part of her Torchwood training? The thought made his stomach dip unpleasantly.

Sarah shrugged and glanced away, her expression bordering on impatience. “Look, I really didn't know the guy. Like I said, he was just a normal looking dude—”

“No, that's not what I mean,” Rose interrupted. “You could help us identify him if you saw him, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Probably.”

“This is gonna sound a little wild, but we want to have a look at your surveillance footage. You've got cameras, right?”

Sarah's eyes widened and she stood wordless for a few moments, mouth hanging open. “Absolutely not!” she finally croaked. “I'd get in huge trouble if we got caught. I could lose my job!” She glancing around nervously, folding her arms around herself in a gesture more protective than adversarial. The sleeve of her shirt crept up, and The Doctor saw the bottom half of a colorful, highly detailed floral tattoo on her shoulder.

“Oh, that's lovely!” he drawled with a disarming smile. “What a nice tattoo. I mean, not to change the subject, but I only just noticed it. I've been thinking of getting a tattoo myself, you know, but I haven't decided what. Can I see the rest of it?”

Still apprehensive, Sarah slowly uncrossed her arms. “Uh... sure, I guess.” She pulled the sleeve up to reveal the whole picture. The flowers were part of a lei of carnations, wrapped around a curling ocean wave. The black silhouette of a surfer was riding the peak of the wave, back-lit by a large tribal sun that surrounded him like a halo. It was only half finished. The flowers and part of the wave were colored, but the rest was merely black. “It's a work in progress. I'm waiting for my Christmas bonus to finish the rest.” She rolled her eyes slightly. “Well, if I get a bonus this year. Sometimes they just give us restaurant gift cards.”

The Doctor frowned. “That's months away still! And with no guarantee?”

She shrugged. “Gotta wait for the money. Tattoos don't come cheap. Well, except cheap tattoos, and trust me—you do not want one of those.” She laughed. The tension was beginning to dissolve.

“Is there a place to get tattooed here on board?” the Doctor asked.

The server couldn't suppress a little smirk. “Yeah, there's a tattoo parlor. It's where I've been getting mine done, actually. I spend more time on board than off these days.”

The Doctor was grinning now. “Sarah, I've got a proposition for you. You help us identify our mystery man with the security tapes, and afterwards, we can go get tattooed together. My treat!”

Sarah was dead quiet, and Rose was gaping at him. “Your treat? Since when did you have any money?” She was trying to look serious, but there was a giggle in her voice, and a smile was tugging rather forcefully at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, Pete's treat then.”

Sarah was playing with the corner of her apron nervously. “I... don't know. I'm not sure I should accept...” Still, the Doctor could see her eyes were shining eagerly at the prospect.

“Think on it, then,” the Doctor said. “You still have our number. Give us a ring around three to let us know if you're in.”

She nodded after a moment's hesitation. “All right. I'll call you.”

“Brilliant!”

“I gotta get back to work.” She turned and started walking away.

“Don't forget!” the Doctor called after her. He looked at Rose with a smile and a waggle of the eyebrows, sensing that her pensive mood was dissolving, much to his relief. She smiled crookedly at him.

“You really getting a tattoo?”

He shrugged. “Depends on if she says yes or not.”

 

-

 

The winds were high, and the air was too crisp to go sunbathing outside, but there was an indoor sun room with a beach and synthesized wave system to simulate a seaside experience. The area was situated on the topmost deck, encased in a large, adequately ventilated dome of UV-transparent quartz glass, with carefully regulated temperature and humidity for optimum enjoyment and safety. The yellow-gray sand was fine and soft, and a high-tech artificial breeze system was activated every 60 to 90 seconds, sending light gusts across the room to refresh the lounging guests.

There was a cabana on the starboard side of the beach where one could get drinks and food, and this is where the Doctor had gone. He'd changed into blue swim trunks and a white t-shirt, and reluctantly, a pair of sandals. It was just before lunch, and Rose was setting up their blanket and supplies for a relaxing afternoon while he was in charge of procuring their midday meal. He perused the menu before ordering fish and chip, then stood by the wall, waiting for his number to be called.

As he waited, he glanced out the open door and caught sight of Scott Crowder, sitting at one of the tables under the shade of an umbrella, the same sunglasses perched on his nose, wearing garments that resembled what he'd been wearing last time the Doctor had seen him. He looked decidedly out of place among a sea of people wearing very little, and the Doctor suspected he was probably rather hot and uncomfortable. His thumb was skimming his phone, but the Doctor sensed that behind the dark shades, the man's eyes were not fixed on the screen. In fact, he was fairly certain they were fixed on Rose Tyler.

The Doctor's number was called, and he scooped up the brown paper bag in one hand, carrying the drink tray in the other as he stepped out of the building. Instead of heading back to Rose, however, he strolled up to Crowder and sat down beside him. “Fish and chips? You likely haven't got any lunch money, what with your wallet gone missing...” He opened the bag and aimed the open end toward the man.

Crowder turned and looked at him, silent for a long moment and utterly expressionless, before setting his phone down and reaching up to slide the glasses from his face, breathing on them and polishing them with his shirt. His eyes were small and enshrouded by a heavy brow bone. A scar ran through his left eyebrow and down at an angle through his eye to the top of the cheekbone. The eyelid was heavily marbled with scar tissue, and the eye itself was drained of color, the iris a cloudy white rimmed in pale blue rather than the dark blue of his right eye. He finally looked away from the glasses, glancing up at the Doctor, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Thank you, no,” he finally said, slipping the sunglasses back on his face and picking his phone back up, leaning slightly sideways to give himself access to his back pocket where he stowed the device.

“Suit yourself,” the Doctor replied cheerily, raiding the bag himself and popping one of the chips into his mouth. “So, Scott Crowder, is it?”

The man made no reply.

“Work for the captain, do you?”

Silence.

“And following my friend around.”

Crowder stood suddenly, turning and giving the Doctor a curt nod. “Excuse me,” was all he said before turning and stalking away towards the exit.

“Oi!” the Doctor shouted, and was about to call after him again but thought better of it, preferring not to draw attention to himself. He watched as Crowder wove through the sea of people before pushing through the exit doors and disappearing.

The Doctor scowled moodily and scooped up his order, making his way back to Rose.

She had spread the blanket and set out a few supplies. Sun cream, a couple of books, some bottled water. She was wearing a white camisole over her bathing suit, a soft pink sarong tied around her waist. Not as sheer as the Doctor had imagined, but still wildly enticing.

_Who am I kidding? Rose Tyler would make a bin bag look enticing._

“I brought chips!” he said. He was determined not to let Crowder ruin his afternoon, but was admittedly finding it difficult to completely shake off the sour feelings the man had stirred up in him. “Fish, too, but we all know that's secondary.” He winked and grinned, plopping down beside Rose.

She didn't seem to notice his mood, looking up with a smile. “Man after my own heart,” she said. She was lying on her stomach with her sarong hiked up to mid thigh, allowing the sun to warm her freshly moisturized legs. “Mind getting my back?” She pulled the camisole over her head, revealing a bare back banded only by the narrow straps of her colorful bikini.

“That's... that's a very nice bathing suit,” the Doctor chirruped, the dark mood dissolving in an instant.

She laughed. “I'm on my stomach, you can't even see it.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“You rascal.”

“I can't help it, Rose,” he replied as he squeezed a handful of sun cream into his palm. “It's not my fault you're unfathomably gorgeous.” He felt extraordinarily warm as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

She laughed again. “Doctor, could you hurry up? I'm hungry, and those chips smell divine.”

“Right, 'course...” Still, he massaged the cream into her skin with very little haste, and she certainly didn't complain.

When he was finished, he pulled off his shirt and she returned the favor, her fingers tickling his back and sending a thrill through his insides at the sensation.

“Doctor, are you purring?” Rose said with laughter bubbling in her voice.

“Time Lord's don't purr,” he rumbled.

“You're a Human Time Lord. What of them?”

“Mmm... sorry, what? My mind wandered off...”

She laughed and gave him a little smack on the shoulder. “All right, mister, I'm done.”

“That's Doctor to you. Blimey, could you imagine if I were called the Mister?"

Rose laughed. "Doesn't quite have the same ring, does it?"

"Not by a long shot."

They sat up and took to their lunch, eating mostly in silence, enjoying the artificial breezes and the sound of the waves, people splashing in the water, children giggling and shouting. It was easily one of the most relaxing afternoons in recent memory—for both of them.

“I was in a place like this,” the Doctor said after a while. The were lying on the blanket, Rose on her stomach to sun her back, the Doctor on his side, head propped up on one hand.

“What do you mean?” Rose lifted her head from its resting position to look him in the eye.

“Like this dome. A big sunbathing dome. I was only there for a moment. Me and Donna...” he paused when he said her name, eyes drifting down to the blanket. “She wanted to go sunbathing, and I wanted to go see this sapphire waterfall, so we separated. For the day, I mean.” There was a brief silence. His mouth twitched a little, the way it did when he was struggling to gather the right words. “Later, I sorta wished I'd gone sunbathing with her instead.” He chuckled tensely. Rose reached over and dragged her fingers softly down his arm. His gaze shifted to the glass ceiling, studying it in silence for a few moments. “Anyway, the planet had an x-tonic sun, so you couldn't actually sunbathe. They had a huge glass dome, fifteen feet thick or something. Imagine that! Sunbathing through fifteen feet of protective glass, the only thing between you and a fatal dose of radiation.” He shook his head slowly, chewing the inside of his lip as his eyes fell back to the blanket. “Still, she seemed to enjoy herself. I was glad of that.” He smiled, looking over at Rose, relaxing a little. He glanced up at the dome again. “This is quartz glass, of course. Not recommended for sunbathing under an x-tonic star.”

“Good thing this is a yellow dwarf then,” Rose chuckled delicately.

The Doctor seemed to relax. “Oh yes! Yellow dwarf! My favorite type of star.”

“Why your favorite?”

“Because, it's the kind of star you were born under, Rose Tyler.”

“Oh god,” she laughed, rolling her eyes and blushing. “That's quite a line.”

“It's true though!”

She laughed again, then leaned forward and kissed him deeply. He closed his eyes blissfully, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. She broke away after a moment. “Doctor...” she whispered in his ear.

“Mm?”

She sat back with a grin. “Let's go swimming!” She jumped up with a laugh, shedding her sarong as she started running down the beach. The Doctor threw back his head and laughed, kicking off his sandals and bounding after her.

-

 

They returned to their room a little after two, wet haired and caked in sand, feeling groggy from the sun. Rose dropped her things by the door and sat down on one of the bar stools with a groan and a yawn. “That was lovely. It's been ages since I've gone sunbathing. Forgot how tired you get though.” She chuckled languidly.

The Doctor ran his hands back and forth through his hair, making it look even wilder than usual. “I don't remember sunbathing being quite so stimulating,” he said with a bounce of the eyebrows. Still, his pink cheeks and sleepy eyes made him look ready to pass out right where he stood.

“Doctor, you look exhausted.”

“Mmm,” he replied, his eyelids drooping further as he threaded his fingers behind his head casually.

“Tell you what.” She slid off the stool and walked over to him. “You go for a quick kip while I shower, then I'll come wake you up and we can decide what comes next.” She smiled amorously, biting her lower lip before reaching up and giving him a lavish kiss.

“Sounds lovely,” the Doctor mumbled into her lips, wrapping his arms around her, eyes already closed. She hugged him back, breathing into his neck pleasantly before separating, but as she started to turn away, he said rather hastily, “Rose, wait.”

She looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I just—”

The room phone began ringing, startling both of them. Rose walked over and picked up. “Yes, this is Rose. Who am I speaking with? Oh, hi, Sarah! ...Oh good, that's wonderful. Thank you! ...Yes... yes, that'll be perfect. Seeya then.” She rang off.

“She'll do it?” the Doctor said hopefully.

“Yeah, she wants us to meet her in front of the trampoline place at ten.”

“Oh, brilliant! I knew I liked her for a reason!” He was all grin.

“Yeah, I had a good feeling too,” Rose said, smiling enthusiastically. “Let's hope they didn't record over those tapes!”

“I'm crossing my fingers as we speak.”

“Pff! Now who's being superstitious?” Rose scoffed with a giggle.

The Doctor tried to look offended, but couldn't suppress a laugh.

“All right, I'm gonna shower,” she said, then stopped. “Wait, Doctor, what was it you were going to say?”

His smile faded a moment. “Hmm? ...Oh, right. Well, I was... I just wanted to say I love you.” He smiled softly.

She smiled in return and gave him another quick hug. “I love you too, Doctor.” She kissed him. “Seeya soon.”

The Doctor smiled after her as she went into her room and closed the door. The smile faded and he rolled his eyes, mentally kicking himself for chickening out at the last moment. But he was so exhausted, and it felt like the sort of thing he needed all his energy for. He sighed and moseyed to his room, flopping forward onto the bed. _Blimey, this human body is so demanding._ One poor night of sleep and he was completely knackered halfway through the next day. He wrapped his arms around one of the pillows and snuggled his face into its softness, only just barely having enough time to appreciate how comfortable he was before drifting off to sleep.

 

-

 

Rose fired up the shower and unfastened her sarong, peeling off her camisole and bathing suit and climbing in. After all the swimming, and walking through the cold wind to get from the sun dome to their room, the gentle pounding of the droplets against her tight muscles was nothing short of glorious. She sat under the water's caress for a little while, just enjoying the sensation of it trickling down her skin, feeling her muscles softening under the warmth. It was almost too relaxing. She felt herself growing deliciously drowsy, and was so tempted to let herself just doze off right there in the water, but she knew she'd regret it when the hot water ran out. She stood and washed her skin and hair, then climbed out of the shower to dry off.

Wrapping her hair in a towel, she went out to her room and rummaged through her drawers, pulling out fresh undergarments, as well as a soft, knit jersey sun dress of marbled light blue and white, and a pair of pink leggings. She slipped into her clothes, then returned to the en suite and blow-dried her hair, choosing to wear it down. She applied a light amount of makeup, then stepped out of the loo and back into her room.

Suddenly, there was a tingling sensation in the back of her neck. Almost before she even realized it was there, she felt like she was being pulled away from herself, her very core growing ice cold as she gasped for air, like the wind had been knocked out of her. The room darkened, and all color faded into monochromatic blues and grays. Across the room, a figure appeared, ghost-like, hovering above the floor and wavering like something seen underwater. The figure was a woman, pale haired, pale skinned, features blurred and unrecognizable. Rose tried to suck in air, but couldn't. It was like something was squeezing her chest, allowing no room for her lungs to inflate. Choking, she fell to her knees. The figure across the room was growing taller, expanding, moving towards her. Its blurry face seemed to slowly spread apart like nothing but a gaping maw, and a high pitched scream, like the sound of hurricane winds and tree branches on a window, came scraping out of the specter's mouth, filling the room like water until Rose was certain she was going to drown.

In an instant, like the flip of a switch, the wraith was gone, and the room was back to normal. Except for Rose, still on her knees, suddenly realizing the scream she was hearing was no longer the howling, scraping scream of the phantom being. It was her own scream bursting from her lungs.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor receive an unexpected delivery, and some other stuff happens. (I have to be honest, I'm always afraid of giving too much away with the chapter summary. So just read on. LOL!)

The Doctor flew out of bed so fast, he was out the bedroom door before it completely registered that what he was hearing was Rose's scream. He dashed through the common area and into Rose's bedroom, finding her on her hands and knees, coughing violently, her lungs sobbing for air between fits, retch-induced tears flooding her eyes and spilling over onto the floor. He was down on his knees facing her in an instant, arms instinctively gripping her shoulders in support.

“Rose! For god's sake, what happened?!”

She tried to answer, but only a gravelly rasp came out before she fell into another fit of coughs. The Doctor jumped up and went to the loo, filling a glass with water and bringing it to her. “Here, drink this.” He helped her take several sips. Her coughing was beginning to lessen, but she was still unable to speak as she tried to calm her lungs and throat. She rolled into a sitting position and leaned into him, his arm around her. “It's okay,” he murmured. “I've got you.”

When she'd finally calmed down and her breathing had stabilized, she managed a raspy, “Sorry 'bout that,” with a shaky chuckle. There was little humor in it. It sounded clunky and out of place.

“Rose, what happened?” The intensity in his voice was palpable, his face drawn, eyebrows knitted together in worry and confusion.

She dabbed at her eyes, laughing awkwardly again, this time the sound bordering on a sob. “God, I don't... how to explain...”

There was a sudden pounding on the door. The Doctor looked up, then glanced at Rose, who nodded, leaning away from him to give him room to stand. He rose and hastened out of the room, opening the main door of the suite. A man and woman were standing there, and the Doctor could see a handful of people in the hall, hanging back. Everyone looked concerned.

“Everything okay, mate? We heard a scream,” the man said.

Rose came out of the bedroom and approached the door, looking remarkably pulled together. “It's fine. I'm so sorry! I thought I saw a mouse, but it ended up it was just a stocking rolled up in the corner.” She laughed sheepishly. Still, she threw an apprehensive glance over her shoulder toward her room.

The Doctor looked grim, but managed to conjure up a little smile for the benefit of their neighbors. “Sorry for the disturbance. Everything's fine here.”

The woman looked a little worried. “You sure it wasn't a mouse?” she asked.

Rose laughed again. “Definitely a stocking. Sorry! Er, although I'm glad it wasn't really a mouse.” She kept glancing nervously back at the bedroom.

The woman smiled. “Me too!”

The fringes of the crowd began dissipating, and the couple awkwardly said goodbye. The Doctor closed the door behind them, the smile instantly melting off his features as he turned to face his companion. “Rose, what's going on?”

Rose's shoulders slumped, her glances scattering around the suite, frequently landing on her bedroom door. “God, Doctor, I don't know what happened, it doesn't seem possible. I...” Her face began to crumple and she stopped talking, clamping down on her tongue to fight her emotions.

The Doctor closed the distance between them in just a few long strides, wrapping his arms around her protectively. “You're shaking.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and tried to fight back the tears, but they flowed against her will. He just stood there holding her for a while, arms tight around her, whispering reassurances in her ear. _It's okay... I've got you... you're all right... take your time..._

He walked her over to the couch and they sat down. She grabbed a pillow and plopped it down on his lap, resting her head on it, his arm around her while the fingers of his other hand combed through her hair soothingly.

“It was a nightmare,” she finally said, her hoarse voice sounding too loud in a room that had been quiet for so long. “From my childhood. It appeared, in my room. It was so real...”

The Doctor fought hard against the urge to start asking questions, giving her room to finish talking, knowing she needed time to get it out. Inside he was a whirlwind of anxiety, and was feeling extremely impatient. He bit his tongue firmly, almost to the point of pain.

After a pause that felt like eternity twice over, Rose spoke again. “When I was a kid, I got really sick with flu and ended up with pneumonia. I was so messed up with fevers and things, I kept having nightmares. This one nightmare I kept having over and over, of a woman without a face. But instead of a face, there was like this big, gaping hole, like a big open mouth, and she kept screaming this horrible scream. It sounded like this sort of scraping sound. Totally inhuman. And she was pulling me in with her mouth, you know? I remember trying to fight it and being so helpless as I felt myself being pulled away. I'd always wake up screaming and thrashing around.” She swallowed. “The nightmares went away once I got better. But I never forgot that woman, that... that mouth without a face...”

“That's what you saw in your room?”

“Yeah, but I didn't just see it. I mean it was like it was there. It was like my dream was real. The same feelings, the same way the room looked—all blue and dark. And feeling like I was being pulled in, like I was drowning and couldn't breathe... everything. It all just came flooding back, and it was like it really happened.”

The Doctor jumped up, Rose flopping forward with little squawk of surprise. He hurried to her room, reached into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver, and started scanning the door. Rose pushed herself up off the couch and went to join him, watching as he scanned her room thoroughly, floor to ceiling, carpets, bed, furniture. He scanned the en suite as well.

“Nothing...” he muttered in frustration. “I thought maybe the creature would leave behind some sort of energy signature, but I'm not picking up anything—not even the tiniest remnant...” He stopped scanning the room and bounded over to Rose, running the sonic up and down her body. She stood still, waiting for him to finish, used to this sort of treatment from him by now. He shook his head in puzzlement. “Nothing...” He plopped down on the bed, lost in thought. “What could do that? What could employ so much energy in such a tiny space, and such a short length of time, and leave without a trace of it ever being here?”

“Doctor, it can't be real. That creature, the one from my dream. It had to be some sort of illusion.”

He shrugged and sighed. “Maybe. Something like that. Something that could use psychic energy to reflect your fears back at you. A defense mechanism? I mean it didn't attack you...”

“What if it wasn't a creature at all? What if, I dunno... I mean, what if I was drugged or something and hallucinated?”

“Yeah, but when? And besides, it wore off too quickly for that.” He eyed her sidelong, thinking. After a few moments, he folded his arms across his chest, sighing as he ventured a change in subject. “I saw Scott Crowder today.”

Rose's eyes widened. “When was this? Why didn't you say anything?”

“It was at the sun dome. I spoke with him. He wasn't too excited though. Left in a hurry. You know he's got the most remarkable scar on his eye, it's quite gruesome—”

“You spoke with him?” Rose interrupted, eyes wide in consternation. “What'd you do that for?”

“Well, it's not like he doesn't know we know he's watching us. I mean we stole his wallet, for god's sake...”

She looked ready to retort, but seemed to change her mind. After a moment, she said, “So what about the scar then?”

“Oh nothing, I just thought it interesting.” He studied her in silence until she started to feel self conscious.

“Doctor, you'll make a woman nervous staring like that.” She rubbed her arm, shoulders still hunched. The Doctor could see she was still shaken.

“Rose, this can't be a coincidence. Whatever's going on, it's got to have something to do with what this Crowder person is up to.”

She was silent, the moment drawn out at length before she finally nodded. “Yeah, it must be something with him. Tell you what, though... I'd be a lot more comfortable if I had the faintest clue why.”

There was a sudden pounding on the door. “Blimey, what now?” the Doctor whinged, hopping up and loping to the door. Rose followed at a slower pace, lingering at the fringes of the sitting area. Upon opening the door, the Doctor found himself face to face with an associate of the ship's messaging service.

“Miss Tyler and... Guest?” he asked formally.

“That's us. What's up?”

“I have a letter for you.” He held it out to the Doctor. It was a square white envelope with their room number and name written on the back in elegant hand. Puzzled, the Doctor reached out and took it, examining it as he slowly closed the door on the messenger.

“Doctor!” Rose ran over and opened the door, finding the dumbstruck messenger still standing there. “Wait here a moment, please.” She dashed off for her handbag, rifling through it as she returned to the door, depositing some tip money in the messenger's hand. “There you are, thank you.” She closed the door and turned an incredulous glare at the Doctor. “You are so oblivious sometimes.”

“Why've we got a letter? We haven't met anybody,” he said, ignoring her remark altogether as he leaned against the dining table and tore the envelope open. "Doctor! That was addressed to me, in case you hadn't noticed." "To Rose Tyler _and Guest,_ " he said, pulling out the envelope's contents. It was a single sheet of white matte cardstock with lettering on the front only. He read it out loud:

_Miss Rose Tyler and Companion_  
You have been cordially invited to sit at  
The Captain's Table  
Tonight, the Twenty-Seventh of September at Eight O'Clock  
The Annabel Lee Restaurant  
101A Deck Seven  
Attire: Formal Dinner 

The Doctor slowly looked up, raising his eyebrows above bright, wide eyes as a grin spread across his face. “Ohohoho, this is brilliant!”

“What in the world!” Rose looked exceedingly perplexed. “None of this makes sense! Some bloke following us around, weird hallucinations, and now an invite to eat with the Captain? I'm at a loss for words...”

“Well, if nothing else, it's certainly keeping us on our toes.” He grinned and pitched his head roguishly, bouncing his eyebrows.

Rose bit her bottom lip with a grin. “Gotta admit, it is pretty exciting.... Although, who knows, maybe we're invited simply because I'm the Vitex heiress...”

“Well, that would make sense, since I'm just listed as a plus one.”

She laughed. “Who says _you're_ the plus one?" The Doctor frowned. "Rose Tyler! I'm cut to the quick!" "I'm kidding!" she giggled. "'Course you're my plus one. Only 'cause word about you hasn't hit the papers yet. If people knew the half of it, you can bet aunt Rita's menagerie the invite would be addressed to you.”

"I haven't got an aunt Rita."

"No, but Pete has. And she has finches."

"Enough to call a menagerie?"

"And then some."

"Blimey," he laughed.

Their chuckles faded into silence. Rose leaning against the bar rubbing her own shoulder with one hand, the Doctor opposite, still leaning against the table about fifteen feet away, arms folded across his chest, making further crinkles in his already sleep-rumpled shirt.

“Rose... are you okay?” the Doctor asked, the words lurching out hesitantly, full of the anxious energy he was trying to contain.

“Yeah... I think. I dunno. That room has me all nervous now, I guess.” She sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “God, it was...” Sighing again, she brought her eyes down to meet his. “I... I don't want to go back in there. Gives me the creeps.”

“Stay with me,” he blurted. “Er, I mean, if you want—or you could take my room. We could switch, or I could take the couch, or—”

“Please, don't. Take the couch, I mean. I just... I'm not sure I'll sleep very well alone. Especially not tonight.” She played with a strand of hair nervously. “I'd... like to stay with you.”

He smiled, an odd mix of pleasure and apprehension. “Brilliant.” He pushed himself off the table and walked over to her, wrapping her in a comforting hug. “I'll get your things.”

“Thanks.”

-

 

As Rose was putting the last of her clothes in the Doctor's closet, she stared at the line of garments hanging in front of her and frowned. “Doctor... that invitation said formal dinner attire, didn't it...”

The Doctor poked his head out of the en suite where he was putting her shampoo in the shower. “Hmm? I think so, yeah...” his face suddenly dissolved into a frown of horrified realization. “Oh no... no... Rose, no...”

She turned to him, grimacing ruefully. “We haven't got anything formal.”

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height, running his hands over his head frantically. “Rose, you promised! I got all my clothes, remember? You dragged me halfway across London for two days, and you promised I wouldn't have to go _clothes shopping_ for at least six months!” He spat the words _clothes shopping_ out like bitter greens.

“But Doctor, we can't show up to a formal dinner in leggings and day suits!”

“Why not?

Rose sighed. “I'm sorry, Doctor. It's not like I want to. I mean, we could always decline...”

The Doctor growled in frustration. “No... we have to find out what's going on, and this is our best chance...” He padded over to Rose, shoulders hunched, mouth pursed sulkily. “Couldn't you just find me something and meet me at the trampoline place?”

Rose laughed out loud and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a comforting squeeze. “What if we go to the trampoline place after?”

He tilted his head reluctantly, but seemed closer to a compromise. “Only if you promise to jump in whatever dress you end up buying.”

“Deal.”

The truth was, Rose hated taking the Doctor clothes shopping as much as he hated going clothes shopping himself. They had done plenty of shopping on the different worlds they'd visited, but it was always strange alien trinkets or bits of tech for the TARDIS. He never went clothes shopping. He never had to, with a closet the size of a gymnasium packed full, floor to ceiling, with anything he or his companions could possibly ever want or need. But now, living a life without the TARDIS, penniless and without possessions or a home, he was having to learn how to function on the slow path. And one of the first lessons he'd learned was that the slow path was often extremely tedious and boring, clothes shopping being the pinnacle of all the tedious and boring things he found himself now required to do. Clothes shopping with the Doctor was every bit as bad, if not worse, than clothes shopping with Rose's little brother, Tony.

It was Rose's intention to get this done as quickly as possible. While the Doctor changed back into his black and gray pinstripes, Rose went to work perusing the ship's directory, writing down the names of the shops that sold formal wear in order of best chance to worst chance of finding something successfully. It seemed strange, but it looked like their best bet was a wedding shop on Deck Five. She wasn't exactly shopping for a wedding, but there might be something passable in the bridesmaid section, and they would have suits as well.

They grabbed their things and headed out, Rose throwing on her blue leather jacket as protection against the rising winds. The temperatures were getting significantly colder at what seemed like a rapid pace, but she remembered they were at sea, and heading full north. They were scheduled to port in Norway the next morning before making the final jaunt to Iceland, which would take two days on the open ocean.

After a lift ride to Deck Five, they hopped a shuttle to the nearest coffee shop. They both agreed this activity was going to require some additional fuel. Rose decided on a vanilla latte and a lemon glazed scone. The Doctor ordered a caramel frappe with extra caramel drizzle and a salted caramel brownie. Knowing they wouldn't be able to take their refreshments into the wedding shop, they opted to walk instead of taking a shuttle, eating and drinking as they went. They passed by a hair and nail salon and a florist. When they came to a bakery with wedding cakes in the window, Rose had to laugh out loud.

“How many weddings do you think the Captain officiates on one of these cruises? I mean, it must not be that rare if they've actually dedicated an entire strip of shops to wedding stuff.” She popped the last bite of scone in her mouth.

“Oh, well, cruises are magical, Rose! I think... it seems like I saw that on a commercial once. Don't magical things make humans want to get married?”

She swallowed her bite. “Makes humans want to kiss, maybe. Getting married, that's kind of a big deal. I can't imagine rushing into it so impulsively.”

“Really?”

Rose stopped walking and the Doctor walked a few paces ahead before he stopped and turned to face her. She was looking at him with the most enigmatic expression on her face. “Doctor, I know full well _you_ never would.”

“Well, maybe not _then_. But the definition of taking your time for a _Time Lord_ is a whole different thing.”

She was silent a moment, still studying him. He felt distinctly like she was trying to make sense out of him. It made him uncomfortably warm, and the collar of his shirt began to feel more like a turtleneck that was three sizes too small.

“You're so different...” she finally said.

It reminded him of a time she'd said that once before, after he'd shucked off the leather and denim in favor of pinstriped suits. He glanced down at his trainers. “Yeah... new new Doctor,” he doffed the words with an awkward, mirthless chuckle. “Regeneration... it's a funny thing, Rose...”

“Yeah, I know,” she said flatly. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. When the Doctor began shuffling his feet uncomfortably, Rose closed the distance between them and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “Come on, let's go.” Her hand lingered on his chest for a moment, playing with the top button of his shirt before she turned and started walking again. He slowly followed, feeling a pang of inadequacy as he rubbed the spot on his cheek where her lips had been. A hollow ache in his gut started to form and he swallowed uncomfortably as they walked on in silence. For the first time in weeks, that sense of being second best settled over him like a gray cloud, intercepting the warmth and light his sunny Rose radiated, leaving him feeling cold and exposed.

_:::Come on, Spaceman. Don't even go there. She loves you.:::_

His eyes widened and he stopped, dropping his food and drink as his hands flew to his temples instinctively.

_Donna?_

_:::Doctor, it's you! Can you hear me? Oh my god, Doctor, something's happening. You've got to listen to me!:::_

Rose turned at the sound of the cup hitting the deck, just as the Doctor slumped against the railing, sucking in a sharp breath as a swell of pain blossomed behind his eyes.

“Doctor?” She grabbed him by the arms. “Doctor, your head again... What can I do?” He was so mentally consumed, he didn't even acknowledge her.

_What? Donna, tell me!_

_:::Doctor! Th...it...can't...listen...listen...stop...!:::_

Another wave of pain as the connection began to crackle apart, and the Doctor groaned against it, sliding down the railing and hitting the deck on his hands and knees, Rose trying to lend him support, but falling to the ground with her legs beneath him.

The connection was gone. The Doctor sat gasping for air as Rose tried to extricate the bottom half of her body from under him while still holding him by the arms. He was pretty sure she was talking to him, but everything sounded hollow and far away as his consciousness struggled to emerge from the depths of his own mind. Her voice slowly started coming into focus. _Doctor... Doctor, can you hear me? Doctor, I'm right here. What can I do to help? Doctor? ….Doctor?_

He noticed a crowd of people had started to form around them, which was enough of a catalyst to pull him back into the present reality. “I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm fine,” he heard himself saying, waving Rose off as he pushed himself back off the ground, leaning on the railing for support. Rose stood as well, tentative fingers grazing his arm as she watched him carefully. She turned to the crowd and said something, he wasn't sure what, and they slowly disbanded, leaving the two of them standing alone.

“Come on, Doctor, let's go back to the room,” Rose said gently.

“No.” His voice was firm. “I'm fine. It's over. It was just a passing headache.”

Rose looked grim. “Doctor, that was more than a headache. You were completely unresponsive for a full 60 seconds at least! I was about to call for medical help!”

“It's okay. I'm fine, really.” He smiled, but he looked pale and shaken.

Rose stared at him wordlessly before her face suddenly dissolved in anger. “No. You're not fine. Stop saying that!” He was taken aback, mouth opening to speak, but producing no words. “You haven't been fine since you got here. You've been trying to hide it from me, but you're getting worse, not better.”

“Rose, this is different.”

“How is it different?” she cried, her voice rising in pitch with frustration.

“Because it is! This isn't what was happening in Norway, this is something else.”

“What is it then? 'Cause it looks an awful lot like the headaches you were having before.” Her words hung in the air unanswered. The Doctor opened his mouth to speak several times, his voice catching on something in the back of his throat with every attempt. Rose emitted a scoffing, humorless laugh. “Right. Well, when you decide how you want to spin this, I'll be in the shop.” She turned on her heel furiously and stalked away.

The Doctor stared after her helplessly as she crossed the twenty yards to the dress shop and disappeared inside. He turned and leaned on the railing with a long, grumbling sigh.

“You idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Why did he always have to make everything so complicated? He looked out at the water, watching the surface churn where it met the side of the ship. It was an unimaginable distance from the deck to the water. He wondered abstractly if the fall would kill him. The surface tension of the water was broken by the boat and the waves, so probably not. Still, even if that didn't kill him, he'd get pulled down by the undertow of the ship. And even if he managed not to drown, he'd freeze to death before long.

 _What a way to go._ He tried to imagine what it was like, dying without being consumed by regeneration energy to be born anew. Death always felt final as a Time Lord, but at the last moment, his body would do its little magic trick and he would emerge a new man. Sometimes very new, other times looking almost as weathered and ragged as he felt, having lived for so many hundreds of years. But to feel that chill creep through his veins as the life drained out of him, knowing that this time, his final breath really was his last...

He ran a hand through his hair, his stomach turning sour in the grip of his pensive thoughts as he hunched his shoulders against the increasingly sharp wind. His eyes still danced around the surface of the water, and before long he was surprised to see a pair of dolphins leap out of the water alongside the ship. After a few moments, they appeared again, leaping out of the waves with incredible energy. He watched them for a while, amazed that they were able to keep pace with the ship. The display was hypnotic. The gentle cadence of their leaps, timed in a way that was both staggered and synchronized. He realized they were leaping to a 6/8 time signature. What music must be playing in their heads...?

 _ONE_ -two-three, four-five-six, _ONE_ -two-three, four-five-six... 

It was beautiful. Enchanting. He felt himself more at ease, more relaxed, more clear-headed. Pushing himself away from the railing, he stretched his shoulders a bit before stooping to clean up his food mess, tossing the waste in a nearby trash receptacle. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he breathed a deep sigh to feed his rapidly beating heart and headed bravely towards the dress shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't particularly important information, but the way I described the Doctor's telepathic encounter with Donna is actually very similar to the way it feels to have a simple or complex partial seizure. In a complex partial seizure, consciousness is lost, though the sufferer appears to be awake and aware of their surroundings. From the perspective of the person having the seizure, coming out of the episode is very disorienting. You can be aware people are talking to you, but don't always process what they are saying. Sometimes you can answer questions, only to forget moments later that the question was ever asked. Voices often sound like metallic echoes, very distant, and you can have a sense of being outside yourself. It's very strange. What a person experiences varies depending on what part of the brain the seizure is occupying. My seizures occur in the frontal lobe. In a simple partial seizure, symptoms can be similar, but you never fully lose awareness of what is happening around you, though reality can be wildly distorted. People experience many different sensations during simple partial seizures. My experience with them includes phantom pain and motor function loss. I'll feel like my legs are on fire, and I get a sensation like bugs crawling around in my head. I also feel like someone is scrubbing my teeth with sandpaper. Anyway, I guess you could say I channeled all these experiences to help me write the Doctor's perspective during an internalized telepathic event with Donna. And I suppose it's kinda silly that I just wrote this huge note to explain a three sentence paragraph. Oh well! Haha!


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor have a talk. Also some introspection as they get ready for dinner.

Rose pulled open the glass door or the dress shop and stalked inside, hot tears of anger threatening to spill over as she bit her tongue hard against them, hands clenched into tight fists of pent up frustration.

The clerk at the counter—a pleasantly round, middle aged redhead, wearing a white blouse and gray pencil skirt—saw her and approached. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Uh...” Rose glanced around through tear-blurred eyes, heading to the nearest rack and grabbing the first dress her hand touched. “Yeah, I'd like to try this on.”

The worker looked puzzled. “Er... that's a flower girl dress...”

Rose glanced down at the dress she'd chosen. It looked like it might fit an eight year old. “God... sorry...” She put the dress back. “Listen, I just need a moment. Sorta had a bit of a row with my b... with... someone. Can you help me just find something to try on so I can sit in the fitting room and, you know, sorta pull myself together?” She laughed, an awkward hiccup verging on a sob, and a tear dropped down her cheek as if on cue. She hastily wiped it away.

The lady smiled sympathetically. “Oh, of course! Don't worry, dear, follow me.” She beckoned with one hand as she started walking toward the back of the shop. “You know, you're not the first person to come in here with emotions high. It's a stressful time, preparing a wedding. All the nerves and feelings, excitement... you get tired, and it starts to spill over a little bit, but don't worry. Everything will come together just fine, and you'll have a beautiful wedding. Have you got a wedding planner? That will make a world of difference, and there are several here on board who are excellent. We also offer wedding theme packages, so you don't have to worry about any of the little details and can just enjoy your special day.”

“Oh, no, no... I'm not getting married. I'm just... actually, I'm sorta looking for a last minute dress, something I can wear to a formal dinner tonight.”

The woman looked surprised. “Oh! Well... we do have some offerings for the wedding party, too, of course. Perhaps something there.” She turned and threaded her way through tight racks packed full of billowing white satin, chiffon, and tulle, with fabric flowers and beads and little sparkly bits all over everything. Rose was overwhelmed to the point of being a little light headed, trying to shake off her frustration and anger and focus on the task at hand.

“Here we are! Now, let me see. A good place to start, if you want a few minutes in the fitting room,” she gave her another sympathetic look, “Is to try on a few different sizes to find the right fit. So how about you just try these...” the woman reached into the racks and randomly pulled out three strapless dresses—a pink, a baby blue, and a particularly lamentable lemon custard yellow—and carried them to the back of the shop, where a three sided mirror alcove was flanked by a fitting room on each side. She approached the nearest and unlocked the door, hanging the dresses on a hook and stepping aside. “There you are, dear, take your time.” She smiled kindly again and shuffled off.

Rose closed the door of the fitting room behind her and slumped onto the little bench, running her hands through her hair and swallowing thickly, another wave of tears threatening. She was so angry. But more than that, she was terrified. What was happening to him? She knew he wasn't being honest, and her mind went to all the worst places wondering why. Was he seriously ill? Was he dying? Was he not telling her because he didn't want to break her heart? And what about the TARDIS withdrawals. Was that even true? What if a metacrisis resulted in a life cut short? Was she going to watch him slip through her fingers in a matter of just a few years? Months? Days?

She felt her heart quicken and struggled to suck in a breath deep enough to sate her blood with oxygen. Fighting against the panic, she closed her eyes and tried to relax her limbs, taking slow, deep breaths. _Inhale... exhale... breath in... breath out... slowly..._

There was a gentle tapping on the door.

“Rose?” the Doctor's voice said, soft and meek. “Are you okay?”

She let out a heavy breath. “No,” she finally managed, furious with herself for getting that choking lump in her throat again as fresh tears welled up.

“Can I come in?” His voice was low, fraught with shame. She didn't answer, just staring at the wall as she tried to sort out her emotions to determine what exactly she wanted from him right now. After a few moments, she heard him scuffing his feet on the carpet outside the door. “...Rose?” Another stretch of silence. “I'm sorry...”

She felt the tiniest pang of relief. Rising slowly, she shuffled the two steps to the door and opened it. The Doctor stood there, leaning pensively against the door jamb, staring at his shoes. He looked up at her, face drawn. “Rose,” he rasped as he saw the tear tracks on her face, the way the corners of her mouth turned down as she fought against tears. She stood there hunched, arms hugged around herself protectively, not quite able to meet his eyes.

He stepped inside the dressing room and closed the door, wrapping his arms around her. “Rose, I'm sorry. I should have been more forthcoming. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” she said sharply, instantly regretting her acerbic tone, but unable to help herself. Her resentment apparently hadn't abated.

He sighed, at a loss for words. After a moment she pulled away from him. “Well, are you going to let me in or what? Or are we gonna _talk about it later?_ ”

“Rose, honestly, I wasn't trying to keep anything from you. It's just... this thing, it never came up, and I've been so busy just trying to... to deal with being human!” He ran a hand across his face. “And truthfully, I didn't think it was a big deal. I thought it was something I could deal with later, but something's happened. Something's been, I dunno, triggered or something, and I don't know why.”

Rose bit her lip. “Are you... god, I feel so stupid asking this... Are you... sick? I mean really sick, like, you know, dying sick?” She dribbled the words out clumsily.

The Doctor's face folded into a deep, horrified frown. “You think I'm dying?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” she took a step back defensively, crossing her arms. “That was no small thing, what happened out there, and you won't tell me anything!” Her eyes bulged with newly stoked anger.

“Rose, I'm not dying, this is nothing like that, please. I'm... I'm so sorry I made you think that! I...” He looked astonished.

“What would you think, Doctor?” Rose asked plainly. “What if it were me? What if you saw me doubled over in pain, not answering you when you're trying to talk to me, and when it was over, I just shrugged it off and said, 'Oh, I'm fine!'? Do you have any idea what that's like for me? The agony I've been putting myself through?” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was getting more and more difficult.

The Doctor's mouth was hanging open, jaw working, but words were failing him. She was right, of course. He'd be furious. She caught the faintest shake of his head as he stared at the wall, closing his eyes and his mouth at the same time and swallowing thickly before opening his eyes again. He looked like he'd been slapped, and Rose felt her anger melt into pity when she saw a tear escape his eye. He wiped his cheek hastily, trying uselessly to conceal it.

“Doctor...” she reached out and took his hand. “I'm not trying to be angry, really. But you have to talk to me. Keeping things from me... I mean, if you don't want me to worry, not telling me only makes me feel worse.”

He nodded wordlessly and pulled her in for a hug. She gave him a tight squeeze of reassurance.

At length, the Doctor finally said, “It's Donna.”

Rose pulled away to look him in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“She's in my head.” He rolled his eyes at himself, sighing as he tried to find a way to explain. “The metacrisis... My consciousness divided, but so did her's. She's trapped in my head.”

“Wow... well, that's certainly... god, I don't know what to say... why didn't you tell me?” The exasperated tone was creeping back into her voice.

The Doctor drew in a breath, tensing defensively. “Rose, I wasn't trying to keep a secret, it just never came up! I mean I hadn't heard a thing from her since the TARDIS, and I was busy!” He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “...But, today, something changed. Well, yesterday. Well, last night. Well, technically I guess it was today, since it was past midnight...”

Rose put her hands on his shoulders. “Doctor, I get it.”

“Right,” he squeaked as he exhaled. “Last night. This morning. Whatever,” he waved his hand like he was shaking off the details. “She tried to contact me, while I was sleeping. But I woke up very suddenly. I'm not sure why, but I'm certain that's why I had that headache. Then, when you were getting ready to go down to the restaurant, I heard her inside my head, just for a moment.” He sighed. “And... that's what was happening out there, just now.”

Rose stared at him, dumbstruck for several seconds before she finally exclaimed, “God, things are never ordinary with you, are they?”

The Doctor grimaced. “I've never been the conventional type.”

She laughed then, pulling him in for another hug. “I'm so relieved...” she said after a moment. “I really thought... I mean, this seems so tame compared to all the places my mind was going.”

He sighed pensively, squeezing her tight as he swayed back and forth gently. She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry...” He pulled back, running a thumb along her cheek, searching her eyes for some modicum of forgiveness. She gave him a little smile, stroking the back of his neck. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. Her lips parted delicately, tongue teasing his mouth open as she deepened the kiss. He sighed hungrily, sending a wave of heat through her as his hands roamed down her arms to settle on her waist. The tingle left by the trail of his fingers lit her senses on fire, and she rose towards him, humming in pleasure as she kissed him, clinging to his shoulders as he backed her against the wall. He slid his hands around the small of her back and pulled her flush with him, causing her to gasp excitedly, her fingers reaching up to caress his face and hair as she kissed him more fervently.

There was a sudden knocking on the door and they jumped apart in surprise.

“Hello, miss?” a woman's voice said cautiously. “Are you still in there? It's been a long time. A young man came in looking for you, but I think he left... are you okay?”

The Doctor clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a guffaw, eyes wide.

“Er, yeah, I'm okay,” Rose said, struggling to conceal her breathlessness as she locked eyes with the Doctor, a huge grin on her face. “I feel better. I'm just gonna try these dresses on. Thanks for being so patient, you've been lovely.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay, well, I'll be up front if you need me.” She shuffled away.

The pair of them dissolved into muffled squeaks of laughter, slumping onto the bench. Rose was pink cheeked and beautiful, her reddened lips more inviting than ever. The Doctor was looking a little dazed, his cheeks flushed and warm, spiky hair exploding in all directions. He loosened the top button of his shirt, exposing the tee he wore underneath, still wheezing out poorly hushed laughter.

“Well, Rose Tyler, if you hadn't crossed snogging in a fitting room off your bucket list, consider it crossed.” He drew in a deep breath and blew it out, muttering a soft, breathy wow.

She laughed, fanning herself as she pulled at the collar of her dress. “I'd have crossed off a lot more if we hadn't been interrupted!” She glared at the door. “I hope she wakes up with spiders in her bed!”

“Now Rose...” the Doctor admonished through a laugh, smoothing down the back of his hair.

“Seriously though!” she chuckled again before suddenly sitting bolt upright with a gasp. “Oh, Doctor! The time!” He sat up as she reached into her bag and checked her phone. “It's half five! We'd better hurry.” She looked at the dresses hanging on the door. “I haven't even tried one on yet.”

“Oh, well, Rose—allow me to be of assistance.” He waggled his eyebrows and she burst out laughing.

 

-

 

The Doctor emerged from the shower and dried off, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping into the bedroom to get dressed. He pulled on pants, trousers, and a white vest before returning to the loo to fix his hair and shave.

Despite his reconciliation with Rose, his stomach was still boiling with anxiety, and he could feel the claws of a headache beginning to dig into the space behind his eyes. He grimaced, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, closing his eyes as he concentrated on calming his racing heart. It had been a painfully long day, and he was tired. Exhausted, in fact. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go to a formal dinner. And they still had their late night rendezvous with Sarah after that.

A sharp jab behind his eyes gave him cause to groan involuntarily, and he instinctively reached up to rub his eyes, as if doing so would actually somehow help relieve the pain. He sighed, and after glancing at the door to make sure Rose wasn't there, he closed it with a click and reached for the bottle of pills at the bottom of his bag. He held it in his hand for a moment, staring at it guiltily.

_I should tell Rose._

The idea of that conversation made his stomach roll over. He wasn't ready. Maybe after they were back home.

He poured four pills into his hand and took them, stuffing the bottle back into his bag and making sure it sat at the bottom, covering it with his hair products and toothpaste. He stared down at it for a few moments, considering how that conversation might go. The things Rose said to him at the dress shop played through his mind, particularly the bits about being honest and open, and not hiding things from her to protect her.

_But this isn't about her, it's about me._

He sighed again, frustration bubbling up inside him. It annoyed him that he couldn't just get over it and be strong. Realistic. Objective. Rose was right. What she'd said yesterday ran through his head unbidden.

_No, you be objective._

She wasn't always objective about Torchwood, but neither was he. And parallel world or otherwise, they were responsible for the profoundly devastating loss he'd experienced. As much as it bothered him, he couldn't shake that resentment off. Not completely. Intellectually he understood. But his heart burned with anger and bitterness, despite what he told himself over and over.

His thoughts turned to Donna and Martha. If he hadn't lost Rose, he probably would never have traveled with them. He wondered what might have been if she hadn't been ripped away from that lever by the pull of the void. What would her life have been like? Being with her here, now, in a mortal body... it terrified and thrilled him all at once. And Rose, she was different now. More hardened by her experiences. But he'd never seen a stronger woman, a woman more determined and more persevering than his beautiful Rose. Had this horror actually been good for her? Maybe being with him would have just held her back. Seeing the woman she had become, strong and determined, compassionate, full of love and kindness, stoked for justice and the good of humanity... he was never more proud or amazed or utterly enchanted by anyone else. Not like Rose. She had become his compass before he'd lost her. And after he'd lost her, she was still guiding him. The whole time he was spiraling through time and space, she was pulling at an invisible cord that was fastened to his hearts, drawing him closer and closer to her. He thought himself adrift. Without purpose. Reckless. Downright selfish at times. It blew his mind every time he thought about it.

It was entirely possible he wasn't giving her nearly enough credit. He kept imagining being lectured about Torchwood, being pressured to join the team and work for the secret organization. Being reassured that they were a positive force in the world, doing good for Earth and aliens alike. But maybe she wouldn't do that at all. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd have the patience, the acceptance, the willingness to wait for him to come to terms with everything Torchwood had stood for in his old life.

Maybe she would just love him the way he was.

He drew in a deep, nervous breath, turning and reaching for the door. It didn't escape his notice that his hand was shaking.

 

-

 

Still on edge because of what she'd seen in her own room earlier that day, Rose asked the Doctor to stay in what was now their room while she got ready for dinner in the en suite. He had finished putting on the suit he'd gotten at the bridal shop, which consisted of a white shirt, a gray satin necktie fastened with a four in hand knot, and black five-button waistcoat. The matching jacket hung on the back of the door. He was wearing trainers with his formal attire, but he opted for black Converse in lieu of red. Flopping down on the bed, he idly flipped through a book on sailor's knots while he waited for Rose to finish getting ready.

She had already freshened her makeup and finished her hair, opting for long, loose curls that framed her face. She added simple pearl earrings and a matching pearl necklace, and now she was slipping into the pale peach chiffon gown—a strapless affair, with some sheer, loose ruffles cascading down the front and back of the knee-length skirt.

Rose examined herself in the mirror, making sure her makeup wasn't smudged, and that the dress was arranged properly. She looked good. Nice. Pretty? She hoped the Doctor thought so. She was still feeling the stress of their argument earlier, and a little guilt had started forming a lump in the pit of her stomach. Had she been overreacting? When the Doctor finally told her what was going on, it seemed so much less serious than what her imagination had been generating. Not that it wasn't significant. But she had been so terrified that he was seriously ill, and it was infuriating that he hadn't told her what was going on.

She believed him when he said he wasn't intentionally hiding it from her. Now that she knew, she could imagine being in his shoes and not really seeing the necessity of sharing. Maybe it wasn't fair of her to demand so much. He'd only been here for a few weeks, after all. That, and being human, missing the TARDIS and having to settle into a slow, domestic life... it dawned on her just how overwhelming that must be. Things were different for her, too, but not fundamentally. She was still a human, still living a familiar life—though not the one she'd expected. He, on the other hand, was experiencing everything anew. Not just a new body, but an entirely new species, with a massive reduction in life span. Torn from the only home he'd known for hundreds of years, and plopped onto another universe to live in the manner he feared most—the mundane, day to day life of a human, winding down the clock with jobs and telly, pubs on the weekend, vacation once a year...

She flashed on that fateful day at Canary Wharf, when she'd been ripped viciously away from the Doctor and the TARDIS. What she'd experienced wasn't so different from what he was going through. She'd spent weeks just lying there, trying to convince herself it wasn't real. And when she couldn't convince herself, she'd spend hours wracking her brain trying to think of a way to get back to him. That was before she joined Torchwood, a choice that she'd seen as a commitment to herself, to the Doctor and her old life, that she wasn't going down without a fight. She'd get back to him or die trying.

Now he was here with her. Though things hadn't turned out quite the way she'd expected, ultimately she'd come away with everything she wanted. But the Doctor... she kicked herself for only just now realizing that he was the one who'd experienced the greater loss. And for what? A measly few years with her? She sighed as her heart did a little flip of guilt.

But that wasn't fair to him, was it? He said he loved her. She should take him at his word.

_Then again, he hasn't always been forthcoming._

She sighed shakily, feeling torn and sad and unworthy. Who would willingly give up an immortal life traveling through time and space... for her? And ultimately, he wasn't allowed to choose. What if she were no more than a consolation prize? If given the choice, would he have chosen her over the TARDIS?

Realizing what time it was, and not wishing to make them late, she did her best to shrug off the anxiety as she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Reaching for the door handle, she pulled the door open and stepped out of the loo, retrieving her cream colored heels that were waiting by the dresser.

The Doctor plopped the book down on the bed and watched her put her shoes on, a moony smile spread across his face. “Rose Tyler... you look beautiful. No, beautiful's not nearly enough. You look... you look stunning... no, wonderful... no... wait... magnificent.” He sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. She caught his eye and all her insecurities melted away when she saw the look on his face. One of complete admiration and delight. Of pure, unabashed love. “You look perfect.”

She laughed, sitting down next to him. “Even for a human?”

The Doctor grimaced, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he remembered saying something along those lines a long time ago, back when he wore the leather coat. “Blimey, I was such a grump back then...”

“A very lovable grump.” She put a hand on his leg.

His eyes roamed along her bare shoulder. “Mmm, Rose, do we have to go?” he whinged. “We could have our own little dinner party right here...” A roguish gleam came into his eyes as he bent to kiss her shoulder.

“Your sense of romance has monumentally poor timing.” she said with a giggle.

“Hmf!” He pouted in jest, standing up and taking his coat down from the door, slipping his arms in the sleeves and shrugging into it. “We'll have to keep an eye on the clock, mind. Sarah will be waiting for us, and it's a ways away, with no shuttle service. Who knows, we may end up needing to run. Just like old times, eh?” He punctuated his sentence with a single bounce of the eyebrows, grinning.

“Well, I'm always up for a good jog, Doctor. Might need a change of shoes though...”

“Oh, I thought of that.” He went to the closet and procured a backpack. “Shoes, and a change of clothes. Although, it's perfectly fine with me if you want to keep the dress on... until we get back, I mean...” He purred, adjusting his tie.

Rose just laughed, standing and sauntering up to him, giving him a lingering kiss before wiping the lipstick off his still puckered lips. “Come on, Doctor. We wouldn't want to be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say this chapter was really hard to write, and in the end I wasn't 100% pleased with it. But sometimes it's just time to move on. Anyway, I wanted to approach some of this from the angle of Rose feeling like 2nd best. The dynamic between Tentoo and Rose is often portrayed as Tentoo feeling insecure because he worries she wishes she was with the other Doctor on the TARDIS. But I think it's likely that Rose would struggle with these same kinds of feelings, knowing that Tentoo had lost the TARDIS. Would he have really chosen her first? I think this is something she would feel anxiety about, especially early on in their new life together.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things are afoot at the Captain's Table.

“This way, please.” The Maitre D' beckoned to the Doctor and Rose. They dropped off their coats and bags at the coat check counter before he led them into the dimly lit restaurant—a subtle conglomeration of old world warmth and nautical charm, surrounded by burl walnut walls, bottle glass window dividers, and a soft, golden glow fanning out from replica gas lamps. They threaded their way through the aisles to a door at the back of the restaurant, which led to a private dining room.

Inside were the same burl walnut walls, ripe with a bubbly figure that was reminiscent of marble. The fan-shaped lamps mounted on the wall cast a warm, comforting glow across the wood grain, bringing out a brilliant auburn luster in the burnished panels. A wrought iron light cluster hanging over the round dining table dispersed splashes of green, blue, and amber light filtered through repurposed beer and wine bottle glass. The lights reflected off of crystal baubles hanging from the iron filigree, sending a spray of dotted light across the surface of the black-brown tabletop, which was set with blue and white china, elegant silverware, and embossed place cards.

Strikingly out of place was a large painting mounted on the wall opposite the door. It was a portrait, nearly life sized, featuring a young woman from the waist up. She wore a 1980's style wedding dress of white satin and pearls, offset by stunning diamond jewelry and white lace gloves. Her black hair was formally coiffed in a french twist, a spray of white flowers woven throughout. She was tall and thin, with a straight, almost boyish figure, and though her features were sharp and indelicate, she was rather pretty in her own way. All the same, having her portrait looming over them, unsmiling, was a bit overwhelming. Rose did her best to ignore it, but she found her eyes occasionally wandering over to the woman's somber face. 

The Maitre D' excused himself as the Doctor and Rose took their seats, looking around at the rest of the party. It looked like everyone but the Captain had arrived. Two older men in tuxedos sat to Rose's right. The nearest—an olive-complected man, long and lean, with slick black hair and hooded eyes—wore an all-white velvet ensemble and was leaning on the arm of his chair, eyeing the newcomers sidelong as he played absentmindedly with his trim mustache. The other man, wearing a more traditional black bowtie affair, was white haired and mottled with thick, dark freckles. He massaged his hands nervously as he offered a tentative smile that didn't quite reach his startlingly pale blue eyes.

Beyond the older men, a willowy girl in her late twenties was perched noncommittally on the edge of her seat. She had straight black hair cropped severely at jaw level, and she was leaning forward on her elbows, her forearms sprouting up in front of her like a tree, lending her the distinct air of someone who was trying to hide. She wore a 1920's style headband with an onyx teardrop dangling from the center, and a black sequined flapper gown clung elegantly to her scant, almost boyish figure. At the moment she was taking a long pull on a gaudy leopard print electronic cigarette, staining the mouthpiece with her tomato red lipstick.

To the Doctor's left sat a young pair in their early twenties, brimming with unabashed wonder and excitement. The girl, narrow shouldered and bosomy, wore a purple prom dress and an auburn up-do that looked far too old for her. The boy was practically drowning in a flood of copper-red curls that bobbed energetically every time he moved his head. He wore a dinner jacket and black tie.

The Doctor and Rose looked at each guest in turn and smiled warmly. “Hello!” they said in unison. Rose wiggled her fingers in a neat little wave.

“I'm the Doctor.”

Rose smiled at the questioning look on her neighbor's face. “His name is John. Doctor John Noble. Most people just call him Doctor,” she explained.

“Well, a Doctor does work hard to earn his title,” the man in white said through a thick French accent. He extended his hand with reserved warmth, and the Doctor shook it with a broad smile. “I am Mallory Auclair. This is my husband, Charles Duncan.” He gestured toward the man beside him, who waved shyly. “And you, lady...?”

“Rose Tyler. The Doctor here is my companion,” she added with a grin. The Doctor beamed at her.

“No place I'd rather be.” He rubbed his palms together. “Well, who else have we got?” He turned to the young man at his left. “What's your name, lad?”

“Peter,” he said nervously. “Peter North. This is my sister, Felicity.”

The young woman waved. “Hi!” Her enthusiastic, widespread grin threatened to split her face in half.

“Brilliant! And you?” The Doctor smiled at the dark haired woman, who turned him an expressionless glance before taking a pull on her e-cig.

“Helen,” she said in low, textured voice, an ethereal wisp of vapor floating out of her mouth like dragon smoke.

The word hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before the Doctor nodded, sticking out his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Right... well... good to meet you, Helen.”

“So, what brought you all here?” Rose cut in.

Mallory cleared his throat, smoothing his mustache again. “Well, it is customary for nobility to be invited to dine with the captain. I am a baron, you see. Not much more than a title nowadays, but some traditions never die out.” There was the faintest curve of a wry smile at the corner of his mouth, and he spoke with candor, but his tone was devoid of egotism. It was more like he was telling them what car he drove, or what he'd had for lunch. "How about yourself?"

“I honestly wasn't expecting to receive an invitation to dinner. But I think it must have something to do with my parentage. My father is Pete Tyler of Vitex fame.”

“Ah!” Mallory said, brightening. “The Vitex heiress! I knew your name sounded familiar.”

Rose smiled demurely. “I don't really talk about it normally. I'm not really into the whole, you know, public eye thing.”

“I understand what you mean,” he replied knowingly.

“Yeah, I betcha do. More than me, I'm sure.” She smiled self-consciously as they chuckled. She glanced at Charles. “Are you enjoying the cruise so far, Mr. Duncan?”

He smiled gently and nodded. “Yes, very much. This isn't our first time.”

“We honeymooned on this cruise,” Mallory explained. “We've been back many times.”

“How lovely!” Rose said. “Is it your anniversary?”

“Not this time, no. But we'll be back, I'm sure.” Mallory glanced at Charles and smiled, taking his hand.

“So, what about you, Helen?” the Doctor asked

White vapor was curling lazily from Helen's mouth and nose again, the slow, languid movement of her breath a stark contrast to her body, which was rigid as a tightly wound spring. She stared sullenly at the Doctor for a moment before turning her attention to the wall behind him, blowing out the rest of the smoke before glancing down at the table. “I'm Captain Levy's daughter.”

“Oh!” Rose said, raising both eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, that's brilliant,” the Doctor toned in. “It must be lovely for him to have his daughter on board. Do you accompany him often?”

“No, not often,” she said stonily.

“Well, that makes it all the more special,” said Mallory.

Helen took a pull on her e-cig and nodded faintly, but made no other reply.

“Well!” the Doctor yelped, attempting to cut the awkwardness in the room, but instead sounding more like a puppy whose tail was stepped on. He cleared his throat and turned toward Peter and Felicity. “We haven't heard from you yet,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, well, I won a contest. All expenses paid, and dinner with the captain for one night.” Felicity beamed. “Pete's my plus one. I don't have a boyfriend or anything, and mum wasn't up for it.”

“Lucky me,” Pete added with a grin. “Never thought I'd want to go on a cruise, but without Lissy, I'd be stuck at home painting dad's garage.”

The Doctor laughed out loud. “Lucky you indeed!”

“How exciting!” Rose exclaimed. “Oh, I would love to win a contest like that, you must be thrilled.”

“Well, you might as well have,” the Doctor said with a chuckle. “Your mum gave you the tickets.”

Rose tipped her head in concession. “Yeah, that's true. Still, it doesn't feel quite the same as when you're up against loads of other people, and only one gets the prize.”

“It's true,” Mallory piped in. “There's something quite thrilling in the contest itself. It's not always about the prize. Sometimes it's just about the competition.”

“Absolutely,” the Doctor said. He turned his attention back to Felicity. “Tell me, Felicity—” "Please, call me Lissy," she insisted. He nodded. “Lissy it is, then! So, what sort of contest was it? Was it some sort of raffle, or...?”

“Oh, no, it was a national creative writing contest. I wrote a story about time travel.” She bit her lip and blushed. “God, that sounds so ridiculous, doesn't it?”

“Oh, well, I think that's just brilliant!” he cried, grinning broadly. “Time travel is something of a particular interest of mine—”

Just then, the Maitre D' opened the door and held out his hand with a flourish. “Presenting Captain Jameson Levy of the good ship Annabel Lee.”

In walked a uniformed man in his sixties—tall, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, and with impeccably straight posture. He had a trim gray beard and close cropped gray hair, and he cradled a captain's hat formally under one arm. The guests all stood up as the captain entered—most of the guests following Mallory and Charles' lead on that point—and remained standing until the captain had sat in his own chair, at which point they all took a seat.

The room was dead quiet for several moments, the tension winding up before mercifully being released by the Captain himself, with two simple words.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening,” some said, and several mumbled.

Inexplicably, the Captain had fixed his gaze firmly on Rose, and the Doctor felt his hackles rise protectively. He shifted in his chair, brow furrowed slightly as he glanced between them. She was nervously picking at her fingernails under the table as she attempted a friendly but confused smile. His intense stare was overwhelming, and she finally broke her gaze away, exchanging a look of insecurity with the Doctor, who scooted a little closer to Rose and leaned forward, elbows on the table, subtly positioning himself between the Captain and Rose. “Captain?” he said tightly, trying to catch his eye.

“Jim, are you all right?” Mallory said.

“It's a pleasure to have you here, Rose Tyler,” the Captain replied, completely disregarding the Doctor and Mallory, gaze still boring into her.

Helen leaned over and whispered something in her father's ear, breaking the strange spell as he tore his eyes away from Rose, now glancing between guests in equal measure. Rose felt herself relax a little. “Welcome to my table,” he said. “I have asked you all here because you are special guests on the Annabel Lee, and it is a time honored tradition and a privilege to share the bounty of my table with such as yourselves.” He smiled, almost robotically, his eyes devoid of mirth. “It is a special honor to eat with the Captain aboard his ship, but I assure you, in such prestigious company, the honor is all mine.”

Rose worked hard to hide a grimace. It sounded rehearsed. It probably was rehearsed.

“Felicity North,” the Captain continued, “Congratulations on winning the Writers Write contest with your imaginative entry. I am thrilled to have such a hard working, clever minded young woman at my table. Peter, as Felicity's companion, you are a most welcome addition to the party as well. And my friends, Mallory and Charles.” He turned his attention to the pair. “As you know, you always have a standing invitation, as long time guests and old friends of mine these past years.” He glanced at the dark haired woman sitting beside him, who at some point had put away her e-cigarette when no one was paying attention. “Helen. My daughter.” He stared at her briefly, then abruptly shifted his gaze to the Doctor and Rose. “Doctor Noble, you have an impressive education in the physical sciences. I'm sure you will delight us all with your interesting conversation. And Rose Tyler...” he stared at her again, his speech halting for several seconds before he continued. “Daughter of Pete Tyler of Vitex fame. So spirited. So... beautiful.” His eyes lingered a few moments longer, and the Doctor nearly burst with pent anxiety and perturbation, but the Captain looked away again, instantly easing the tension in the room. “Thank you all for being here. What do you say, shall we start with a little wine?”

Everyone agreed, some a little more enthusiastically than others. A waiter came in with a wine list, and as several of the party members conferred over which bottles to order, Mallory caught the Doctor's eye, furrowing his brow as he faintly tossed his head toward the Captain questioningly. The Doctor shrugged and shook his head. Rose sank lower in her seat, wishing for all the world that she'd just stayed in her room.

The Doctor reached under the table and took her hand, giving it a squeeze as he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Do you want to leave?”

She hesitated a moment, but finally shook her head. “No, I want to know what's going on. This bloke's weird.” She whispered back.

“You sure?” He searched her face imploringly.

She nodded again, more confidently this time. “Yeah. M'sure.” He grimaced faintly, returning his gaze to the Captain. Rose thought he looked disappointed. He was more tightly wound than she'd ever seen him. “God, Doctor, it's okay. What's the worst that could happen?”

“Don't say that!” he hissed. “That's as bad as saying _nothing could possibly go wrong_ , or _Mum will never notice_.”

“Don't tell me you're superstitious after all.” She failed to suppress a smirk of amusement.

He rolled his eyes, and was about to whisper something else when something caught the corner of his field of vision and drew his attention there. It was Helen. She was staring at him openly. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for several moments, her expression inscrutable. But there was something in her eyes that inexplicably raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Rose had caught the sudden change in the air and turned her head to see what he was looking at. As she did so, Helen's gaze shifted towards Rose. Rose studied her face, finding it difficult to read, but sensing a sort of sad urgency in her stare. She furrowed her brow questioningly, but the only response she received from Helen was a faint, almost imperceptible shake of the head before she looked away.

Rose and the Doctor exchanged puzzled glances, but were once again interrupted by the Captain's scrutiny.

“And what about you, Rose Tyler?”

She glanced at him before averting her gaze. “What?”

“What is your opinion on the wine?”

“Oh... well... I'm sure whatever you pick is fine.” She looked at him again, really taking him in for the first time. God, he looked awful. His eyes were red rimmed and glassy, his skin was sallow, and there was a sheen of sweat on the bridge of his nose. It unnerved her the way he kept staring at her, but what was even more unsettling was the way he didn't make eye contact. She felt almost like he was looking right through her.

“But I value your opinion, Rose Tyler.”

“Er... you can just call me Rose.”

“As you say. What wine?”

She bit her bottom lip and just blurted the first wine that popped into her head. “Pinot noir?”

“Excellent. I knew you would choose just the right one, Rose Tyler.”

“I think you'd better just call her Ms. Tyler,” the Doctor said frostily. Under the table, he squeezed her hand so hard she winced and pulled away. He glanced at her apologetically and she glared at him.

“It's fine,” she said through her teeth. “Doesn't matter.”

“How are you all enjoying the journey so far?” The Captain's voice cut through the moment as he once again assumed the role of host.

“Oh, it's splendid!” Felicity said, all smiles. “We've already been to the theater, and the sun dome is incredible! Wish we had one back home.” She laughed.

“Yes, the sun dome is a favorite of ours as well,” Mallory chimed in. “We always go at least once a day.”

“I'd rather go to the trampolines,” Peter blurted haltingly, turning pink and immediately shutting up.

“The trampolines!” the Doctor said under his breath, almost forgetting himself as he turned to Rose. “Rose, you promised!”

She laughed. “Sorry, Doctor, I forgot! We'll go later.” They returned their attention to the conversation. Felicity was talking about what she'd seen at the theater, but Rose was only half listening. The Captain's eyes were on her again. It made her skin crawl.

Service came bearing wine and an array of nibbles. Salted bread with seasoned olive oil, fruit and cucumber salad, and a plate of olives, pickled asparagus, and a wide assortment of cheeses. Most of the party ate with delight, but Rose and the Doctor found themselves without appetite, though Rose did do her part to put away a glass of wine rather quickly, following it up with a second glass for sipping. More than once she wished she'd brought a watch. How much time had passed? It felt like an eternity. _Oh to have the Doctor's time sense right now..._

As the main course was being served, Peter accidentally knocked over his glass. It was mercifully almost empty, but still caused a bit of a ruckus. During the moments that followed, the Doctor caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he saw Helen's chair was empty. He sat up straighter and looked around the room, but she was gone. Giving Rose a little nudge with his shoulder, their eyes met, and he nodded towards the empty chair.

“Where's Helen?” she said.

“I... don't know,” Mallory said hesitantly. “I didn't see her leave.”

“She slipped away just a few moments ago,” Charles said. “Didn't say a word.”

“It's no matter,” the Captain said. “Let's eat. I think you will like this dish very much, Rose Tyler.”

“Will I?” Rose said with a sigh, beginning to lose her patience.

“You will like it.”

She rolled her eyes slightly. “What is it?”

“Braised calamari stuffed with shrimp.”

“God...” She made a queasy face.

“You will like it.”

“I'm not really—”

“You will like it.” There was something just shy of menacing in his tone.

She blinked at him, mouth hanging open slightly. The entire table had gone quiet. “Um... I'm just going to use the loo... 'scuse me...” She gave the Doctor a meaningful look and slipped out of her chair, hastening out of the room.

The Doctor adjusted his waistcoat. “You know, I'm feeling the call of nature myself.” He followed her out of the room before anyone could object.

Eyes roaming urgently through the dimly lit public dining room, he finally caught sight of Rose weaving her way through the dinner crowd towards the main entrance and hurried after her, catching up with her at the coat check counter.

“27-A, please,” she was saying to the attendant as she handed him her ticket.

“Right away, miss,” he replied before disappearing into the coat room.

“Rose, are you okay?” the Doctor asked breathlessly, wrapping her in a hug.

“I'm fine, I just couldn't stand it any longer. If I stayed another minute I was going to punch him in the face.”

The Doctor grinned. “Oh, Rose, we should have stayed...”

She laughed then, dispelling the heaviness in the air. “Oh my god, that was the worst!”

“Talk about creepy. Blimey, that bloke would give Davros the heebie jeebies!” He wrapped an arm around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder briefly before giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Any sign of Helen?” the Doctor asked.

“No. Thought I might check the loo, but god, I just need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I'd rather not have any run-ins with the Captain's hired goons. There's definitely something strange going on. Did you see the look Mallory gave me? He's met the Captain lots of times. They're practically friends. And he was definitely confused by his behavior. And then there's Helen... I dunno. Something's definitely wrong.”

Rose worried a thumbnail. “I was thinking, this Scott Crowder bloke following us around... he's the Captain's right hand man.”

The Doctor nodded grimly. “That wasn't lost on me either.” He sighed. “I don't like this. Maybe we should catch a zeppelin back to London when we reach Norway tomorrow.”

Rose laughed. “Not a chance! Come on, you never run away from a mystery.”

He groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “You're right... I'm a sucker for them.” He glanced at her. “I worry about you, though.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “I'll be fine, Doctor. I've been through much worse, believe me.”

The Doctor frowned skeptically. _Who says it won't get worse—much worse—before it gets better?_

The coat check attendant handed them their coats, her handbag, and the Doctor's gear bag. They left a tip and slipped into their coats as they headed out the door.

It was ten past nine and shuttle service had shut down. They hurried along the deck and ducked inside a corridor that led to a public loo. The ladies room was empty, so they both slipped inside and plopped their bags on the diaper changing station, shimmying quickly out of their clothes and slipping into jeans, t-shirts, and trainers. The Doctor's shirt had a picture of Han Solo and Rose's had a picture of Princess Leia.

“Doctor...” Rose glanced between the two shirts and burst out laughing. “Where the hell did you get these?”

He grinned cheekily. “Oh, I bought them weeks ago. I've just been waiting for the right moment.” He winked. “Perfect dynamic duo, dontcha think?”

She grinned. “Like us.”

“They wish!” he laughed as he buttoned his jeans and pulled the shirt over his head.

Rose was slipping on her own black converse when she looked up at him and stopped what she was doing a moment, watching him with a moony grin, tongue in teeth.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh nothing...” Her eyes roamed up and down his figure. “Just enjoying the view.”

He grinned crookedly, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe I should wear jeans more often.” He crouched down to tie his shoes.

“Well, I wouldn't complain... just don't give up the pinstripes altogether. It's bad enough you never wear ties anymore.”

“I could still wear ties!”

She finished tying her shoes and slipped on her leather jacket. “With t-shirts?”

“Well...” he considered the possibility as he shrugged into his overcoat—slim, black, and knee length. Much shorter and far less dramatic than the old duster he used to wear.

“No,” she clarified with a laugh. “The correct answer is no, not with t-shirts.”

“You never know until you try,” he said with a grin, shoving their old clothes and shoes into the bag. On a whim, he pulled out the neck tie from his suit and slipped it over his head, snugging it up a little, but still leaving it relatively loose. “There, see?”

Rose grinned and sauntered over, grabbing the tie and pulling him in for a deep, fierce snog. He let out a long, low hum of pleasure, kissing her in return, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. They deepened the kiss, his arms sliding under her shirt, caressing her waist as she leaned into him, still pulling on the tie with one hand as the other roamed up his neck and into his hair.

She broke away with a gasp, glancing between his eyes and mouth.

“Wowzer,” he said breathlessly.

She swallowed, staring at his mouth for several more moments before releasing his tie and stepping back. “We'd better hurry,” she said huskily. “Rain check?” She grinned, biting her lower lip.

“Oh yes...” he rasped, working his jaw. “Definitely. Rain check.” He straightened his tie and smoothed his hair, and she laughed, grabbing their bag and zipping it up before shoving it into his arms. He let out a little _oof_ at the unexpected load, still looking dazed.

Rose slung her bag crosswise over her shoulder and tossed her head towards the exit. “Allons-y?”

He threw back his head and laughed, shouldering the gear bag and following her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't named the ship up to this point because I didn't know what to call it. But then I remembered this song called Another New World by, which the Punch Brothers didn't write, but they did a cover of it (it's a Josh Ritter song). The song is about a ship called the Annabel Lee. It's a great song. Anyway, I figured I'd keep with the Punch Brothers inspired theme. Here's the song, for those who are inclined: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ooqsxtdGS0
> 
> I originally named the restaurant The Annabel Lee, and then I thought I should go ahead and have the ship be called the Annabel Lee as well.
> 
> It is also a poem by Edgar Allan Poe. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annabel-lee/ I have no idea if that's a coincidence or not.


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor wrestles with a few inner demons, and some other stuff.

“They must record over it every night.” Sarah looked at the Doctor and Rose, a sheepish half-frown curling down one side of her mouth.

They had arrived shortly after ten, and it had taken the Doctor a good fifteen minutes to break into the security computers, using his sonic to locate a back door to the system. Once inside, he'd fired up the recordings and attempted a playback, but everything was too recent. A thorough search of the office yielded no further tapes.

 _Dammit!_ “That's all right, Sarah,” Rose said, trying not to sound disappointed. “It was worth a shot.”

“Not your fault, anyway,” the Doctor added. “You did your part as promised. Have you made the appointment for the tattoos yet?” He bounced his eyebrows and grinned. It was that manic, put-on grin Rose recognized so well. The one that never fooled her anymore. He was disappointed too.

“Yeah, it's set for the day after tomorrow.” Sarah looked a little relieved. Maybe she'd been worried they wouldn't fulfill their end of the bargain after coming up dry.

“Brilliant!” he grinned.

As they were talking, Rose felt the tickle of an elusive thought, and found herself trying to root it out. She was remembering a time when the Doctor had helped a little girl who'd been possessed by an alien creature… _He used telepathy to communicate with the creature inside her head..._ “Oh! Doctor!”

“Hmm?” He looked at her with eyebrows raised inquisitively, his ordinarily animated hands paused mid gesture, and she realized she'd interrupted him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to cut in. It's just... can we talk in private?”

“Of course! 'Scuse us, Sarah.” As they stepped outside the office and into the dark restaurant lounge, Rose grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door. She stopped at the bar and he bumped into her with an _oof._ “Rose, this is hardly the time for a cuddle,” he chuckled.

“Very funny, Doctor. But I was just thinking, what if... what about... you know...” She tapped the side of her head as if he could actually see her in the dark. “Telepathy? With Sarah? Maybe you could get a glimpse of him that way. Maybe even a name. You know how your subconscious remembers things that your conscious self forgets. Maybe she did hear his name. Maybe she got a better look at him than she realizes.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“What?” he asked tersely. She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she sensed he was guarded. The energy in the air shifted dramatically, and she found herself feeling defensive.

“I'm... just saying maybe we could learn something.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He pulled his hand away. “Really, Rose? Do you even understand what your asking?” He sounded hurt. Maybe even angry.

 _No, not angry,_ she thought. _Scared._ “I... No, I guess I didn't really... just forget it.” She folded her arms.

He sighed, but made no reply, instead turning and heading back into the office. Rose felt her heart crack a little as warmth flooded her cheeks and tears of embarrassment stung her eyes. She rubbed her face with her palms. _Fuck..._

Sarah was still in the office, tidying up their mess and shuffling papers around, trying for all the world to look like she hadn't heard anything, but when the Doctor came back in and caught her eye, she looked slightly flustered.

“We have to go,” the Doctor said. “Give us a ring on tattoo day, then?”

She nodded, smiling slightly. “Right. Definitely.”

The Doctor sonicked the recording equipment, erasing any footage of their presence. He then programmed the cameras to turn back on in ten minutes. They hit the lights and threaded their way back out of the restaurant through the back door, Sarah punching the alarm code in before locking up.

“Should we walk you back to your room?” Rose asked. “It's awfully late.”

Sarah shook her head. “Nah, I'll be fine. Staff dorm is just around the corner there. Can you find your way back?”

The Doctor nodded. “Yeah, no problem. Goodnight, Sarah.”

They watched her retreating form for a few moments before the Doctor turned abruptly and walked off. Rose followed him wordlessly. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched. God, she'd really blown it, she was pretty sure.

“Doctor, I didn't mean anything by it,” she attempted, quickening her pace to catch up to him, matching his stride so that they were walking side by side.

“I know,” he replied shortly.

She brushed some strands of hair out of her face and shoved her hands in her pockets. They were emerging from the employee corridor and out onto the open deck, and a chilly breeze caught her by surprise, nearly taking her breath away.

“I'm sorry,” she said, glancing at him.

“Don't. You don't have to.” His tone had softened slightly, but he was still avoiding her gaze.

They walked on in silence, fighting against the cold wind as they maintained a brisk pace, both in an effort to get back to their room as quickly as possible, and as a way to generate some warmth along the way. They eventually reached the lift and rode to their floor, and a few more moments led them to their suite. Rose silently unlocked the door and stepped inside as the Doctor followed, closing the door behind him and locking it.

He twirled around and rubbed his hands together energetically. “So!” he said with a sudden grin. “Whatcha think, Rose? I dunno about you, but I'm starving. I didn't really eat anything at dinner. That squid shrimp thing looked awful...”

She gaped at him, hands balling into fists. “Oh no. Don't you dare,” she hissed, her confused frown morphing into an angry one.

“What? You're not hungry?”

“Doctor, you promised to be honest with me. What was that back there?”

“What was what?” He frowned defensively.

“What you said. 'Do you even understand what you're asking?'” she quoted. “I thought I did, but maybe I don't.”

“Blimey, Rose, I just got a little defensive. Sorry if I upset you...”

“You were scared.”

“I was no such thing,” he said, irritation worming its way into his voice. He walked past the bar towards their bedroom, avoiding Rose's eyes as he brushed by her.

“Doctor!” She threw her hands in the air, working her mouth wordlessly in exasperation as she turned to follow him, stopping in the doorway and taking a deep, cleansing breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I need to know what you're going through. Otherwise, I can't be there for you. Remember? We just talked about this! I obviously hurt you. Please. Let me be sorry. Set me straight. I want to know...”

He had removed his coat and sat on the bed, pulling at his laces and toeing the Converse off his feet. “Bloody hell, how did we suddenly end up in the middle of this? This is stupid, just forget it.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted them. Rose's eyes bulged in anger and her cheeks turned bright red. He could actually imagine steam coming out of her ears. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Doctor, the way you spoke to me back there. How you walked away—I deserve an explanation. And I sure as hell deserve better than a gloss over.”

He drove his hands through his hair, causing it to stick out in several more directions than usual. “It's not a big deal! I'm sorry, okay?”

“You are impossible!” She stalked from the door towards the en suite.

“Rose, _stop!_ ” He hadn't meant to yell. It had just burst out of him, the force of his pent frustration and defensive feelings thrusting it from his voice. It made him sound angry. _Dammit!_

She stopped walking and turned towards him, still fuming, her arms crossed. He was still sitting at the foot of the bed, his back to her. “What?” she hissed.

“Listen...” He said with a sigh, tenting his fingers along his hairline as he stared at the floor. “Sometimes I don't tell you things because I don't want to talk about them.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “It's not about hiding things. It's never about that. Not with you.” He bent his head and wrapped his hands around the back of his skull. “But it's hard. So please. Just...”

Rose stared at the back of his head. Her expression softened, but she looked hurt. She licked her lips and sighed. “Yeah.” Turning, she stepped inside the loo and closed the door.

The Doctor picked up his shoes and threw them forcefully into the corner where they hit the wall with a sharp thud and bounced away in two different directions. He rubbed his hands up and down his face, then up through his hair, glancing down and noticing for the first time since Chili's that he was still wearing that stupid tie. He pulled it apart with a sigh and dropped it on the floor.

_:::Bloody hell, you can be a real dunce sometimes.:::_

_Donna!_ He sat up straight on the bed, hands instinctively reaching for his temples. A wave of dizziness rolled through him, and his synapses felt like they were on fire.

_:::Doctor... problem? Doctor? ...for the... Doctor? Doctor?:::_

_Donna, please, hang on. Can you hear me?_

_:::Doctor? Doctor?:::_

_Shit! Donna!_

_:::I'm... I can't... ...m so sorry...:::_

_What? ...Donna? Sorry for what? ...Donna?_

She was gone. He groaned in frustration and slammed his fists down on the mattress, the cushion in the pillowtop rendering the action highly unsatisfactory. He slowly stood, still feeling a bit dizzy, and stumbled his way out of the bedroom, past the sitting area and out onto the balcony. It was fiercely cold, especially without a coat and shoes, but he ignored the chill. He needed air. Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feel of the wind on his skin and the little mists of water that it left behind as it kissed his face.

_What's wrong with me?_

It was bad enough he was too emotionally pathetic to open up to Rose about his telepathy, but this Donna business really had him on edge. He was worried. No... more than that.

_Rose is right... I'm scared._

He cradled his face in his hands.

In that moment he heard a high pitched squeaking sound, almost too high for his human ears. He raised his head, straining to hear. There it was again. He knew that sound. It was the chirrup of dolphins. He peered out into the darkness, but couldn't see anything through the thick black wall of night, especially with the balcony lights on, which seemed only to further solidify the blackness beyond the railing. All the same, his mind somehow slipped into that musical cadence that he'd experienced before. _ONE-two-three, four-five-six..._ The rhythm of the sea. He could hear it in the waves. He closed his eyes and listened, feeling its soothing calm wash over him as the wind caressed his face and tousled his hair. It was the closest thing he'd felt to a mother's comfort in almost a thousand years.

Finally roused by the cold, he wandered back into the suite and closed the door behind him. The warm air from inside seemed strangely to exaggerate the coldness he felt, and he shivered, rubbing his arms. He glanced at the door of the bedroom and saw it was closed, and there was no light glowing through the crack under the door. He sighed pensively and sat on the couch. Rose's blanket from earlier was still there. He grabbed it and drew it around himself, lying down on the cushions and closing his eyes.

-

The Doctor found himself inside his memory construct again—the TARDIS library, overflowing with books and maps and globes. There was that godawful pink sectional, and the glass top coffee table littered with magazines. But no Donna.

He looked down at himself, still in jeans and the Han Solo t-shirt, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. _Sheesh, brains are weird. Why would I still have the blanket? Let me guess. Comfort. Real subtle, brain. You're as bad as the TARDIS sometimes._ He sighed, wandering around the library, glancing at book titles, stopping to run his fingers along the spines of a few favorites.

As he approached the library door, he was surprised to see that it was open a crack. It was never open. “Donna?” His voice clanged discordantly through the silent air, and he cringed at the loudness, though he'd barely spoken above a whisper. He pulled the door open the rest of the way. Beyond was a hallway with a grate floor, recessed cyan baseboard lights, and smooth copper paneled walls. The TARDIS. _Makes sense._ He padded down the hall in his socks, feeling rather like a small child who was looking for his mum at two in the morning. The thought made him smile slightly. _Imagine. Me. The Doctor, all wrapped in a blanket, looking for his mum._ He supposed it had happened once upon a time, but it was so long ago, he couldn't quite recall.

He passed the galley and Rose's room. Both doors were closed, but he remembered them vividly. Rose's room still had a Rolling Stones poster taped to the door. That was rather strange, because he had taken it down in his old life, after Rose had gone. He'd been unable to look at it without a queasy somersault of the stomach. Yet here it was in his mind. Maybe his subconscious had put it back because he was with Rose again.

He approached the steps that spiraled up towards the console platform, not entirely sure why he was headed there. Habit? Perhaps. That or aimlessness. He padded silently up the steps, the light glowing brighter as he went, now casting golds and greens across his field of vision. Emerging from behind one of the coral struts as he stepped out onto the top platform, he looked at the center of the room.

There was the console, as it had always been during this regeneration, with the time rotor glowing aquamarine, and the control panel a hot mess of wires and buttons and dials, his trusty rubber mallet laying on the dash. He approached with reverence, putting his hand on the controls tenderly, almost tentatively, like he thought it might dissolve if he touched it. A melancholy ache rolled through his core and he worked hard to swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. A tear slid down his cheek despite himself, and he realized he had been holding his breath for god knew how long, finally releasing it for a shuddering gasp of air.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the console, a tidal wave of memories overwhelming him. He was drowning in time and space, in planets, in species, colors, voids, orange skies and purple grass, seas dyed red with algae, daleks, cybermen, Sutekh, umbrellas and scarves and that daft celery stick. He was tumbling over and over, faces rolling past. Susan's eyes full of wonder, Sarah Jane's intoxicating smile, Mickey the idiot, and Rose—dear, sweet Rose—a pink and yellow match struck to life in the bleak abyss of his sorry existence. Martha Jones in a white coat, in red leather and jeans, in UNIT black, that jaunty spray of hair poking out the back of her head. And Donna...

The hologram projector whirred into life, and Donna's image flickered into view. The Doctor stepped back with a start, the blanket falling from his shoulders.

“Doctor?” Her voice sounded hollow and distorted, like she was talking through a drainpipe.

“Donna?” he said in a mousey whisper.

“Doctor, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Donna, I can hear you!” He took a lurching step forward, stopping at once as he reminded himself she wasn't really there, and he wouldn't be able to touch her.

“Doctor? Oh god, I don't know if you're hearing this, but you've got to listen to me.”

More tears were rolling down his cheeks as he stared unblinking, hands balled into fists.

“Doctor, something's happening. Something's wrong. Are you listening? Can't you hear it? Can't you feel it? Oh god, Doctor!”

A sharp pain lanced through his skull and he fell to his knees as the console room start to rumble and quake. He clutched his head with a tight groan, fighting against the pain and pressure. “Donna! What's happening?” He gasped, gritting his teeth, fighting against another stab of pain as it sliced through his head.

“Doctor! Doctor!” The holographic image flickered a few times and disappeared.

-

The Doctor woke suddenly, sitting straight up on the couch as he gasped for air. Pain seared through the space behind his eyes and he winced, clutching at the upholstery of the couch as he fought against the pressure and the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Doctor?” It was Rose. She was sitting next to him on the couch, a hand on his knee. Strange. He'd just been lying there, and he didn't remember... He shook his head as if to clear it.

“I'm okay,” he rasped.

She was dressed in a pale blue cardigan over a black top and black trousers, her hair neatly combed and straightened, hanging down to her shoulders. What time was it? Had he slept through the night?

“I made you a promise, Doctor. I'm never going to leave you.”

“What?” He furrowed his brow in confusion.

There was a cracking sound and a strong gust of wind as a portal opened behind her and she gasped in terror as the vortex started pulling her in.

 _“Rose!”_ He grabbed her hands as she started to fly away, but she slipped through his fingers and disappeared into the void. _“Roooooooose!”_ He watched in horror as the vortex swallowed itself up like a crumpling piece of paper and disappeared. An agonized wail escaped his throat as he climbed over the back of the couch towards where the portal had been. _“Rose! Rose!”_

“Doctor, I'm here!”

He turned to see Rose coming out of their bedroom and running towards him. She was hugging his shaking form before it completely registered that she was there, that she hadn't been pulled into the void. Several more moments passed before it seeped into his consciousness that he had fallen apart in her arms and she was rocking him and whispering soothingly in his ear as he clung to her tightly. _Doctor, I'm here. It's okay. Shh... it's okay..._

-

“It was a hallucination.”

They sat on the couch side by side, wrapped in the same blanket, cradling cups of coffee in their hands. It was already past five in the morning. Too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. The Doctor had been drenched in sweat, so he went in their room to change while she made coffee. He threw on a fresh tee and a pair of fleece pajama pants, then slipped into the loo and hastily dug into his bag, tapping out his pills and taking them with water from the sink. When he'd emerged, his cup was waiting for him on the coffee table, and she was sitting on the couch patting the seat beside her.

“A hallucination? You mean... like, what I had?” her voice sounded small. Pensive.

“I think so, yeah.” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “It was so real... I really thought...” he closed his eyes and shook his head against the memory.

“What happened?”

He turned a pained glance her way, opening his mouth wordlessly. He sighed. “You're not going to let this one go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” She placed a gentle hand on his knee.

He stared at her for several agonizing moments. “It was you.”

She leaned back slightly, surprised. “What?”

“I watched you get pulled into the void. You were sitting right here, and the vortex opened and pulled you in. I tried to grab you, but you slipped through my fingers.” His voice was strangely calm.

“Oh my god...” she muttered, barely above a whisper. “Doctor...” She set her cup down and leaned into him, giving him a tight squeeze and kissing his chest through the t-shirt fabric. He sat his cup next to hers and leaned back, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

“Rose...”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I'm sorry about before.”

“All forgotten.”

“No, but really... I should have said something, I just... I'm not good at this.”

A whisper of a chuckle emerged from her. “I noticed. It's okay. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I'm sorry, too. But Doctor...”

“Hmm?”

“You will, you know... talk to me..? Eventually?”

He took in a deep, slow breath and exhaled. “I didn't want to hurt her.”

She sat up, searching his face. “Sarah?”

“I was afraid I'd hurt her.” He was staring at his knees.

“How could you possibly hurt her?” She reached up and stroked his hair soothingly.

“There's... it's... I'm...” He let out a heavy sigh. “Blimey, I can't think of a simple explanation.”

“Well, then give me a complicated one.” She leaned into him again, resting her head on his chest and stroking his arm lightly with her fingers. He relaxed a little.

“Ever since I got here—ever since the other me left—something hasn't been right with my head. Not just with Donna, that's a whole different thing. But... you know the withdrawals... my head hurt so bad, and the emptiness in my mind was so overpowering...” he sighed. “Blimey, this sounds so daft. I tried to connect telepathically with a fly.”

“Wh-hat?” Rose failed to stifle a little laugh. She felt him tense up.

“It's not funny!”

“No, I know. It's not. It's just... not what I expected.”

“Well what did you expect?”

“Nothing, I don't know. Sorry. I was just taken by surprise. Why didn't you just ask me? I'd have let you.”

“Seemed a bit forward. Besides, I knew how you felt about having your mind invaded. You nearly blew your top when I told you the TARDIS was translating things right inside your head. ...Anyway, I'm glad I didn't.”

“Why?”

“Well, it's dead,” he said tersely. “The fly. I killed it. With my mind.”

She sat up again, studying his face. “You're serious?”

His eyebrows shot up and he gave her a sharp look. One that screamed, _are you kidding me?_

She grimaced, trying to regain some footing. “How did it happen?”

“I don't know. It was sort of just a whim when the fly was buzzing 'round the flat. I just wanted to see if I could, you know, and if it would make my headache go away. When it died, I just thought it was a weird coincidence. But it happened again later with a moth. After that I went out of my way to test myself. I went through a few dozen bugs, then some mice from a pet shop. All of them died right in my hands. It's like... like everything's on overdrive. Like my mind is so starved for connection that anytime I make a link I just devour everything in that other mind. I have no control.”

“So you're saying... you can kill things with your mind?”

“Well, I wouldn't phrase it quite like that,” he said defensively. “Makes me sound like a villain.”

“You? Never.”

He grimaced, looking down at his hands. “You've seen me at my worst. I destroyed a whole species without batting an eye.”

“Hey,” she said, crawling into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her shoulder. “Don't say that. You did what you had to do. They would have destroyed the entire universe if you hadn't stopped them. I know that doesn't make it easy... but I'm glad you did it. We all are.” She kissed the top of his head and rubbed it in with her thumb before rolling out of his lap and standing up. “I'm getting hungry. Never did have any dinner... Did you eat anything last night?”

He shook his head somberly. She sighed, reaching down to take his hand. “Doctor, I mean every word.”

“Do you?”

“Every. Word.” She pulled him to his feet and wrapped him up in another hug. “Tell you what. You go have a shower and I'll call down for breakfast. We port in Norway soon.” She smiled up at him.

He glanced at the bedroom door, then back at Rose. “Join me?” he asked, nodding towards their room.

She blessed him with a tongue touched smile. “Wouldn't miss it.”


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Doctor moments, and making out + light sexytimes later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is during the time they are docked in Norway, and has some light smut at the end. If you want to skip this chapter, you won't miss any major plot points. This is all relationship stuff.

The Doctor fluffed his hair and examined his teeth in the mirror before reaching to pull the cobalt blue Oxford from its hanger on the back of the door. He slipped it on and buttoned it over his white crew-neck tee, tucking it into a pair of gray trousers with blue pinstripes, adjusting the sleeves before buttoning the cuffs. He studied himself for a few moments, feeling uncharacteristically self conscious as he reached for the door hook and pulled down a dark purple necktie with a blue filigree design. A faint, irrepressible smirk crossed his face as he draped it around his shoulders, popping the collar of his shirt and tying a four-in-hand knot, the memory of last night's kiss fresh in his mind. Folding the collar down, he adjusted it carefully and put on his waiting suit jacket, buttoning the three buttons and smoothing it down before adjusting his collar and tie again.

He knew why he was nervous, and it was thoroughly irrational. He lived with Rose, for god's sake. But they were docking in Norway. A different village, granted, but the correlation was inescapable. They had been through so much in the last several weeks, it almost felt like a lifetime ago. A human lifetime anyway. And though they wouldn't be visiting the same place the TARDIS had landed, he couldn't shake the electric aura that surrounded him today.

There was so much significance in Norway for both of them. But for him, it represented everything in his new existence. He was, for all intents and purposes, born here. This is where he had begun coming to terms with his humanity, where he faced Rose that first night in their hotel room and begged her to forgive him for the cowardly way in which his other self had left without her. For the fact that he existed at all, and for being the cause of her expectations for the future changing so drastically. For the fact that she didn't get to live on the TARDIS like she'd dreamed and worked so hard for all these years. For not being able to save her at Canary Wharf. For getting her stuck on an impossible planet five hundred light years from home. For feeling threatened by her desire to know her own father. For accidentally bringing her home a year later than promised. For ultimately bollocksing up her life in every way he'd touched it. And by some miracle that he had yet to understand, she'd simply reached across the bed to wipe the tears from his cheeks, and told him he had nothing to apologize for.

That was the magic of Rose Tyler. He would never deserve her love, and she sure as hell would never deserve his baggage. But she carried him anyway—every ounce of him. And not begrudgingly, or with a sense of obligation or pity, but with genuine, absolute, unqualified love.

There was a light tapping on the door. “Doctor, are you ready? The ship's pulling in now.”

They had showered together earlier, and their lovemaking had been anxious, almost desperate for comfort after the night they'd had. She'd whispered soothingly in his ear, told him how much she loved him, how everything would be okay, and he whispered Gallifreyan words of love, which she didn't understand the meaning of, but comprehended the emotion behind them. She'd said sometimes it's tough, but they'd get through them together. Shiver and Shake. He laughed at that, and the tension in his body began to dissolve as they stood in each other's embrace, hot water trickling down them in a mesmeric cascade.

“Yeah, I'll just be another tick,” he replied through the door. In truth, he was ready, but he was struggling to shake his nerves, stomach doing restless somersaults, hands trembling faintly. He squeezed them into tight fists to combat the jitters and took a deep, slow breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart, but he realized he was rapidly spiraling into a panic attack. He sat down on the lid of the toilet and hunched over, elbows on knees, hands perched shakily behind his neck as he tried harder to slow his breathing, closing his eyes as he tried to clear his head.

Unbidden, that soothing rhythm unfurled in his mind. _ONE-two-three, four-five-six, ONE-two-three, four-five-six..._ He could almost hear the ocean waves as they churned against the side of the ship, and the sound of dolphin chatter sang through his thoughts, the mental reel of leaping dolphins playing over and over in his head. _ONE-two-three, four-five-six, ONE-two-three, four-five-six..._

His heart rate had slowed, and the rhythm of his body leveled out once again. He took one more deep breath, exhaling slowly before standing, glancing in the mirror one more time as he opened the door.

Rose sat on the bed wearing a gray wool skirt over black leggings, black leather boots, and a snug fitting cranberry jumper with three-quarter sleeves. She was flipping through a nature photography book, but didn't really seem very attentive, turning the pages robotically and not really stopping to examine the pictures. She looked up, flashing him a shy smile and biting her red-painted lip. Was she nervous, too? She must be. Norway meant as much to her as it did to him, surely. For all he knew, it might mean more. There was so much about her he still hadn't learned. It had only been two years for him, but six years had passed for her. A lot could happen in six years. Especially to someone who worked for Torchwood. The thought made him antsy, and he pushed it away.

“You look rather nice,” she said. It was the _shop girl_ Rose talking—a part of her he hadn't seen much of since he'd lost her at Canary Wharf, and an endearing facet of her soul that he very much missed. Now here she was, sitting in her red and gray and black, a sweet, young, self conscious smile gracing her beautiful face. It was like the time he'd first seen her in a dress, when they'd met Charles Dickens. He'd been such an idiot. _You look beautiful... considering you're human_. He couldn't even give her a compliment without a qualification. He'd fallen so fast and so hard, it had left him terrified and defensive and vulnerable. And he hadn't been about to let anyone that close, no matter how much he'd wanted it. Funny how things change.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned, pushing down the rumble of nerves in his stomach. “Rose Tyler...” Trailing off wasn't exactly his intention, but in that moment he forgot everything he was going to say.

She stood up and took the four steps across the room to meet him, reaching up to adjust his tie and pet his cheek. “Nice tie,” she said with a flirty smile, her tongue caught between her teeth.

He blushed as a moony grin spread across his face. “Nice...” he looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her strawberry lips. “Everything.”

She laughed melodically. “Come on, Doctor. We've got a village to explore.”

They wrapped up in coats and gathered up their things, and before long, they were walking down the gangway to the pier. It was half ten, and there was a heavy morning mist in the air, which would probably dissipate by noon. They crossed the pier, Rose's boots clicking audibly on the weathered planks, the Doctor's trainers padding softly. There was an insistent coastal wind that brought color to their cheeks and ruffled their hair in playful gusts. She leaned into him for warmth, and he wrapped his arm around her as they reached the nearby road, where an assortment of tourist shops and supply stores dotted the edge of the street like a row of tea tins, all different colors, and some with murals of nature, or scenes representing local history. Despite the lateness of the season, there were still baskets spilling over with late-blooming flowers, suspended from the building overhangs, and as many shops as not had flags or windsocks fastened to the building corners on long metal poles.

The village was already flooded with activity, people from the ship having spilled out for a bit of time on land and a taste of the local culture, mingling with the town's residents as they did their shopping. The Doctor and Rose wove in and out of some of the shops, admiring the artisan fare—all sorts of paintings, jewelry, woodcarvings, sculptures, clothing and fabric art, frivolous trinkets and locally prepared jams and relishes... The Doctor caught Rose admiring a hand dyed red and gray scarf, and he insisted on buying it for her—which amused her to no end when he had to borrow money from her in order to do so. He said he should probably think about possibly considering the option of maybe finding a job when they got back home. She said it'd be a mortgage next.

After browsing shops for a bit, they found themselves a bit peckish, and stepped inside a little cafe for a bite and some tea. It was all bright whites and chocolate wood inside, and unsurprisingly it was rather crowded. They waited their turn for a table, finally being seated in a booth by the front window, and the server came and took their order five minutes later. It was to be tea and sandwiches.

Rose played idly with the corner of her cloth napkin, wrists propped on the edge of the table, pinkies poking out just slightly. She glanced at the Doctor. “You're kind of quiet this morning.”

He grimaced slightly. “Am I? ...Guess my wit's a little slow today.”

She gave a little half smile. “You seem nervous.”

“Yeah... maybe,” he admitted.

She nodded slightly. “Me too.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, speaking hesitantly, “Because of... Norway.”

“Yeah...” she licked her lips and stared out the window. “You know, I've never been to Norway except for those two times. Sorta weird being here on holiday. Never really pictured myself coming back.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Same here.” He withdrew his hand meekly. “I've been sorta worried about it, actually. Didn't want you to...” He glanced down, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rose's eyes shifted back in the Doctor's direction. “Didn't want me to what?”

“To be... angry. With me.” He chewed the inside of his lip, avoiding her gaze.

She smiled, nudging him under the table with the toe of her boot. “Don't be silly, Doctor. Of course I'm not angry. A bit overwhelmed, maybe...”

“But you miss him.”

She nodded. “Of course. I mean... he's here, because you're here. And you're him. But I still miss the other you. Just knowing there's another part of you out there... I worry about him.”

The Doctor thought about bringing up the fact that he's not alone, that he has Donna, but he left it. Knowing himself as well as he did, he assumed his counterpart was an emotional wreck inside. He didn't want Rose to think about that, or feel guilt about that. She had been through so much, and she deserved to be happy. He just wished, not for the first time, that he hadn't made things so complicated for her.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said.

“Don't do that,” she said firmly. “You have no reason to.”

He frowned. “I just wish I hadn't... it's not... It just should have been much simpler.”

“Doctor, listen to me. I want you to know—I mean really know. Really understand. I love you. And I'm happy. Missing him, worrying about him... that doesn't change how I feel about what we have here, together.” She smiled at him. “And who knows, maybe this little afternoon in Norway will be the beginning of some better memories for us. Memories of our own, separate from all the other stuff. You deserve that. You seem to go around feeling like an extra limb or an afterthought. But you're not. You're the Doctor. Same man, different body. That's it.” She found herself leaning forward in her seat, and her voice had risen slightly as she spoke with emphasis and sincerity.

The Doctor studied her face. Her blond hair had fallen forward slightly, and her cheeks were still pink from the cold. Or maybe it was from the emotion behind her words. Her eyes were glistening with the moisture of threatening tears, triggered by the sheer intensity of her feelings, and her mouth formed a taut line as she swallowed them down. God, she really meant it. He felt his guilt, his anxiety, melt away under the heat of her steady gaze, wondering why he'd ever been so tightly wound in the first place. He had the sudden urge to crawl across the table and snog her silly right there in the middle of the cafe. His face grew hot as the image of Rose Tyler straddling him in his chair bloomed unbidden in his mind.

“Rose...” he croaked. “I—”

“Here we go!” the server announced cheerily as she approached the table with their tray. “Tea and sandwiches.”

The Doctor couldn't tear his eyes away from Rose, and she was giving him that tongue-in-teeth smile, wagging her head flirtatiously. God, did she know what that did to him? He wanted to crawl under the table and give her a taste of her own medicine.

“Can I get anything else for you?”

The Doctor swallowed dryly, turning his head towards the server, but never taking his eyes off Rose. Did she just wink at him? He let out an unintelligible squeak. "Umm... uh... er... anything? What? No, we're fine. We're good here, we're yes, good. Fine. Er, thank you.” He faintly registered that the server said something and walked away.

“Doctor?” Rose drawled. She leaned forward and propped her chin on her hand, elbow resting on the table. Her eyes were hooded and her lips were parted slightly, one side of her mouth turned up in amusement. She was so beautiful.

That snapped him out of it. “Yes! Right. Tea. Er... you know, Rose... I'm not really that hungry after all... in fact, I'm sort of knackered.”

“Knackered,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Well, we could always... you know... go back to the room for a quick kip.” She bit her lip suggestively.

“Oh yes,” he croaked.

Rose hastily tossed some currency on the table and led the Doctor out of the restaurant. As they rounded the corner towards the pier, the Doctor took her hand and pulled her back. She twirled to face him and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed the distance between them, kissing him firmly with a delicious hum. He responded urgently, hands roaming up her waist and behind her shoulders as he tasted her, little sighs of pleasure escaping between kisses. Just as he moved to kiss her neck, she took has hand and backed away, grinning seductively at him as she pulled him towards the ship.

Before he knew it, he found himself shoved against the wall of the empty lift as Rose began kissing him again, fumbling with the buttons of his coat and reaching inside to grab him by the fabric of his jacket collar, pulling herself closer. The Doctor ran his fingers up and down the backs of her arms, sending a thrill through her and eliciting a sigh of pleasure as she leaned desperately into him. He gasped at the contact, kissing her more fervently, grabbing her by the arms and rolling her towards the wall, pressing into her with a groan as he peppered kisses along her jaw and down her neck, feeling even more urgent at the sound of his name being whispered. He reached under her sweater and stroked her sides, fingers grazing the bottom of her bra, a small part of his brain observing the thready texture of lace.

“Mmm... are we... there yet...” he said breathlessly between kisses on her neck, his tongue tickling her skin and causing her to squirm desperately.

“God, I wish,” she gasped. “Should I hit the emergency stop button?”

He laughed huskily, emerging from under her chin and pushing her mussed up hair away from her face, catching her mouth in a softer, sweeter kiss. “Rose Tyler...” His eyes were so full of unspoken words the air was practically electric with them. He opened his mouth to speak further, but the elevator dinged and the doors opened. She grinned, pushing him back and snicking the tie out from his waistcoat, backing out of the elevator with her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she pulled him along like a puppy. “Let's talk later," she purred.

They hurried down the hall and pushed forcefully into their room, in each other's arms again as the door slammed into the wall and bounced back towards them. The Doctor kicked it shut clumsily, now trying to lift her sweater. But no, she was busy pulling his shirt out of his trousers and fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, too preoccupied to raise her arms. No matter. He reached underneath and undid the clasp of her bra, humming into her mouth as he kissed her frantically. She'd finally gotten his waistcoat and shirt undone, and was pulling the tie free of his collar, the smooth fabric making a zipping sound as it slid away. She pushed everything—coat, jacket, waistcoat, and shirt—all off his shoulders at once, and it fell to the floor in a heap like a single garment. Extricating his hands from the inverted sleeves of his clothes, he grabbed the hem of her sweater and practically tore it off as they backed into the bedroom. The rest of their clothing was quickly discarded, and Rose crawled backwards on the mattress, grinning hotly, the Doctor following her on his hands and knees.

They made love, their fingers woven together, pinning her to the mattress as he rocked into her, so lost in the moment that they could barely separate one sensation from the next, all of them singing together in a crescendo of skin and breath, and the music of her voice as it blended harmoniously with his, the cool air of the room tingling flesh, dissonant with the heat of their bodies as they danced in perfect rhythm. 

They collapsed beside each other afterward, the Doctor on his back, Rose snuggling up against him with her head on his chest, her body following the curve of his form so tightly that there was no air between them. They pulled the blankets on to preserve the delicious warmth they had created, and the Doctor was combing his fingers through Rose's sweat-slicked hair. She was listening to the single heart beating beneath his ribs, its rhythm still elevated from their romp.

“What was that you were saying,” the Doctor said languidly, “about making our own memories here?”

Rose grinned, rolling her nose towards his chest with a laugh. “Well, that's a start, yeah?”

He kissed the top of her head. “I do have a confession to make though.”

She scooted up, a little closer to his head, laying her cheek on his shoulder as she looked up at him. “What's that, Doctor?”

“I lied about not being hungry at the cafe.”

She giggled. “I'm starving. Want to order in?”

“Oh yes. Unless... you want to go out and make more memories in the village?”

She grinned cheekily, tongue peeking out. “I'm happy with the memories we're making right here.”


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship leaves Norway, and some stuff starts happening.

The Doctor awoke to the sound of the ship's bellowing horn, the amber glow of an evening sun seeping into the room, heralding the close of another day. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, feeling foggy and disoriented, the constant pressure behind his eyes intensifying, giving birth to an involuntary grimace. He felt the weight of another body stirring on his right side and glanced down. It was Rose, still asleep, though shifting positions as the horn sounded again, snuggling her head into his shoulder, one arm draped over his middle.

He could feel her skin against his own, both of them nude under the sheets, and everything came rushing back to him at once. They'd ordered some food and stayed in, later making their way back to the bedroom as passion bloomed anew between them, this time unhurried—measured and deliberate, as they savored the pure bliss of being in each other's company. He remembered hovering over her exquisite form, caressing every part of her and attending to her desires, wanting nothing more than to show her how much he loved her. The baser pleasure of their bodies was almost nothing compared to the emotional intimacy, and thrill of total mutual vulnerability they shared as they opened their hearts to one another in complete, unfettered unity for the first time since he'd acquired this new human vessel. Eventually they'd drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.  
The horn bellowed again, wafting away the last vestiges of sleep, bringing him fully into wakefulness. They must have been asleep for a while. He was reluctant to leave the comfort and warmth of their bed, but he had a greater need to ground himself in the waking world, still feeling the disorientation of an impromptu late afternoon kip. Extricating himself carefully from Rose, he slipped out of bed as she mumbled something incoherent and snuggled deeper into the space he'd been occupying. He pulled the sheets up to cover her snugly and gave her a little peck on the temple before pulling on some trousers and creeping silently out of the room.

The tawny glow spilling through the cracks in the window drapes threw the common into a chiaroscuro of gold and black, splashes of cyan and aqua mingling where the light was strongest. He could feel the thrum of the engines as the ship came to life, and his mind was instantly transported back to the gold and green and black of the console room, the thrum of the TARDIS humming soothingly in his ears, that warm, pleasant fullness ever present in the back of his mind—their telepathic link. The ship's horn blew again, jarring him out of his short-lived reverie. It was like he'd been punched in the chest, a feeling of profound emptiness sucking at him, as if he were being drained of blood. There was a stab of pain in his head, and he bit down sharply against it, realizing too late that his tongue was in the way, cringing at the sensation of flesh giving way to teeth, followed instantly by the metallic taste of blood. Human blood. That was a flavor he still wasn't used to.

He strode across the room towards the balcony, feeling a sudden, overpowering need for fresh air, quickly sliding the door open and stumbling outside. His bare skin tightened at the touch of cold air, bare feet feeling the chill of salty wetness seeping up through the pores in the wooden planks, painting his soles with a layer of moisture and grit as he padded across the deck and leaned against the railing. The wind was sharp, but he welcomed the slight discomfort, feeling the remnants of the flashback floating away into the recesses of the past where they belonged. The profound melancholy remained, however, like an ache in his gut, and he took deep breaths in a vain effort to purge it.

God, he missed her. He missed her so much.

He shook the thought away, blinking back tears as he looked out over the water, realizing for the first time that the ship was getting ready for departure. Their day in Norway was over. Even though it had been a good day, he was glad it was behind them. The worry of it had been more overwhelming than he'd realized until the weight was now lifted from his shoulders. He and Rose only had the future to look forward to now. Leaving Norway on such a positive note felt like someone had hit the reset button on their precarious beginning, and it was a huge relief. He hoped Rose felt the same. His thoughts lingered on that point a few moments before deciding that she probably did.

He heard the chatter of dolphins and looked down at the water to see a few of them playing near the ship's hull. It seemed odd that they were so close to human territory, and hanging out around the boat despite the loud engines and bellowing horn. But dolphins were clever and curious; and clever, curious creatures weren't entirely predictable. There must be something there attracting them. He smiled faintly down at them, enjoying their play, feeling a little more relaxed.

“Doctor, what on earth are you doing out here?” came Rose's soft, admonishing tone as he sensed her padding up behind him, joining him at the railing. She'd thrown on some pajamas and was pulling a thick cardigan tighter around herself. “It's freezing! And without a shirt? God, you're so daft sometimes.” She laughed.

“Oi! It's just a little breeze,” he replied, though he did shiver, and it didn't escape his notice that he could see his breath as he spoke.

“Come on, let's have some hot tea,” Rose tugged at his arm.

He hesitated, a feeling of dread creeping over him. “Rose... would you mind turning on some lights in there?”

She furrowed her brow through a puzzled grin. “I dunno, might be a bit tricky, but I suppose I can manage. What for?”

“I just...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “It's...” He sighed, trying again. “The colors. In the room, when it's dark, it's...” he managed some momentary eye contact, before looking sheepishly at his feet, the words coming out in a halting stutter. “It reminds me of the TARDIS.”

Her puzzlement melted into sudden realization. “Oh...” She placed her hand on his and squeezed it. “That why you came out here?” He managed a nod. She squeezed his hand again and kissed his cheek. “Be back in a mo',” she said softly, walking back into the room. After a few moments he heard her at the door again. “All set, Doctor, bright as you like.”

He turned and walked back inside, slowing as he brushed past her, trailing his fingers up her arm in a silent thank you. She closed the door behind him and grabbed the blanket off the couch, throwing it around his shoulders as she headed for the bar. There was a hot pot and tea supplies in the cupboard, and she busied herself getting things ready as he followed her, pulling the blanket tighter as he sat on one of the bar stools, leaning over the bar and watching her. “You want my help, love?” he asked, subdued.

“No, s'alright. Not much to do really.” She smiled at him as she filled the pot and plugged it in, setting out cups and additional supplies.

A silence spread between them. Not uncomfortable, but still somewhat weighty. Finally the Doctor drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils, sitting up slightly. “I keep seeing dolphins out there,” he said, that curious, thoughtful tone creeping into his voice, higher in pitch and full of questions. “Isn't that funny?”

“Dolphins?” Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, dolphins. Just, you know, swimming and leaping and chattering, being all dolphiny. Dolphinesque? Dolphinish? Dolphinlike...” he trailed off.

“I like dolphiny,” she replied with a smile. “I wish I'd seen them, bet they're gorgeous!”

“Oh yes.” He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Must be a good thing, right? Aren't dolphins supposed to be good luck at sea?”

“Hmm, not sure. I never finished that book.”

“Yeah, me either. But I think I've heard that somewhere.”

Rose came around the bar and climbed into the stool beside him. “So what if you're on a boat, and you've got dolphins swimming around, but you're eating a banana?”

The Doctor chuckled. “Well... maybe lady luck wouldn't begrudge you one banana if you've got a great big pod full of good luck charms swimming 'round your boat.”

“Yeah, but what if you also have a woman on board?”

“Hmm, yes, and what if a bell rings just then... blimey, seems like there's more bad luck than good for sailors... 'course you could always tip the scale by... you know...” he eyed her up and down.

“Oh what, the naked woman thing?”

“Well, you brought it up...” He bounced his eyebrows.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud shriek coming through the walls. The Doctor and Rose flew out of their seats and into the hallway as another chilling scream rent the air, setting their hearts to a frantic pace. They ran down the hall, the Doctor's blanket falling to the floor as they went, following the sound as others began emerging from their rooms, looking frightened and concerned. Another scream, this one a wail of terror, sounding closer now. It seemed to be coming from the lift. As they arrived, the lift doors opened to reveal a man inside, cowering on the floor with his arms over his head, crying out in pure terror.

“Rose, hold the door!” the Doctor was at the man's side in an instant, shaking him by the shoulders. “Oi, mate! Hey! What's going on? What happened?”

The man's head flew up, eyes bulged and full of primal fear. “Get away!” he shouted, socking the Doctor square in the temple with his meaty fist, the man's ornate ring slicing into his eyebrow as the impact sent him crashing into the wall of the lift with a gasp of pain and shock.

“Doctor!” Rose cried. The stranger climbed to his feet and dashed out of the lift and down the hall. “Oi! Stop that man!” Rose screamed down the hall, then stooped to help the Doctor up. “Oh my god, are you okay? You're bleeding!”

“I'm fine, come on,” he said, dashing after the man again. Someone had jumped forward and grabbed him around the waist, holding onto him valiantly as the terrified stranger beat his fists into the man's back.

“Let go! Let go! It's coming! It's behind me! Oh god! Let me go! Let me go!” his yelling had risen to a panicked screech, legs and arms flailing wildly as he squirmed and struggled to free himself. The Doctor and Rose arrived and helped restrain the man further, pinning him to the floor to keep him from hurting himself or someone else.

“What's coming? What is it? What did you see?” the Doctor said softly in the man's ear.

Tears were streaming from the man's unblinking eyes as he glanced around frantically. His struggling had lessened, and he was gasping for breath. “It was... it was... it's gone...”

“What's gone?” Rose asked, trying to sooth him with a hand on his back. His muscles were still quivering from the adrenaline coursing through his blood.

“The devil,” he whimpered.

“I'm calling ship emergency.” It was the man who had helped them. Rose recognized his rich voice and french accent, and for the first time looked up to see it was Mallory Auclair, from the dinner party.

“Mallory! Yes, thank you, I think that's a very good idea.”

The man had calmed down some, but Rose and the Doctor still clung to him gently, just in case he had another outburst. Mallory sat up and pulled a phone from his inside pocket, dialing the ship's emergency code and speaking briefly with the dispatcher. The response was surprisingly quick, emergency medical workers arriving in just a few minutes to take over. The stranger had become unresponsive, staring blankly at nothing, still huddled on the floor even when Rose and the Doctor released him. They gave him a sedative and loaded him up onto a gurney, wheeling him away as the crowds in the hallway dispersed, each person returning to their own business.

Mallory lingered in the hall however, turning towards the Doctor and Rose. “I'd like to speak with you, if I may.”

“Yeah, sure,” Rose tossed her head towards the room. “We're just right over here, come on. We were about to have some tea. Fancy a cup?”

“Oui, merci beaucoup.” He followed them back to their room and they closed the door, the Doctor gesturing to the couches as Rose returned to the bar to finish preparing tea, adding another cup to the tray.

“Have a seat there, Mallory. I'll be back in a tick. Just wanna wash up.”

“Very well, Doctor,” he replied, smoothing the front of his jacket and lowering himself into one of the wing chairs.

The Doctor disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. What had previously been a nagging headache was now a screaming one since being socked in the face, and he felt slightly dizzy. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight before opening them again as he pushed away from the door and made his way to the loo, flicking on the light and having a look at himself in the mirror. A bruise was already forming on his right temple, and it was beginning to swell, especially near the outside edge of the eyebrow, where the cut had erupted at the point of contact. A steady stream of blood had flowed down his face, but the bleeding had slowed now. Thankfully it wasn't deep, and looked far worse than it actually was, but it definitely hurt. He grimaced and reached for a flannel, putting it under a stream of warm water from the tap, wiping the blood from his face and neck, and down the front of his chest where it had dripped down. The flow of blood was slow enough for the Doctor to just dab it with antiseptic and apply a butterfly strip from the first aid kit under the sink. He took a dose of his Torchwood pills along with a dose of ibuprofen, washing the handful down with water from the sink, wiping his face dry before finding a white t-shirt from the closet and gently pulling it over his head, careful not to jostle his bruise or tear the bandage loose.

He opened the door to find Rose standing there, waiting for him with a teacup and a bag of ice. He grinned. “Rose Tyler, you think of everything.” He took the proffered items and gave her a kiss in exchange.

“What would you do without me, Doctor?”  
A sad smile spread across his face. “Oh, I'd be lost in the universe without a compass,” he replied somberly, reaching up with the hand holding the ice pack to pet her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

They joined Mallory in the sitting area, the tray of tea sitting on the table in front of him. Rose had found a tin of biscuits in the cupboard, and that was laid out as well. Lowering himself carefully onto the couch, he winced only slightly as he placed the bag of ice against his bruise, Rose sitting beside him.

“Sorry about your face,” Mallory said, gesturing towards the bag of ice.

“Worse things have happened to it, believe me,” the Doctor replied with a slight smirk. “So what brings you here, Mallory? Are you one of our neighbors? I didn't realize...”

“No, not a neighbor. I actually came looking for you.”

“What for?” Rose asked, sitting forward.

“Well... I had wanted to talk to you about the dinner, but now that I'm here... that man... something strange is happening.”

“What's going on, Mallory?” the Doctor asked stonily, lowering the ice pack from his bruise. Rose reached over and took the ice out of his hand, gently applying it to his face. He didn't resist.

The baron hesitated a moment. “Doctor... this morning, when we arrived in Norway, we decided to stay on board. We've been to Norway many times, and we enjoy being on the ship when all the people have gone to be in the villages. When we were getting ready for the day, Charles suddenly went into a panic, screaming and throwing himself around...”

“Oh my god,” Rose mumbled.

“He kept saying there were bees attacking him. A big swarm of bees. I couldn't calm him down, I had to call emergency. They sedated him and took him to infirmary, and I overheard them saying, 'another one.' I asked them what that meant, and they said they'd answered several calls that morning for people being in a panic and having hallucinations. Just like that man outside your room.”

The Doctor and Rose exchanged troubled glances.

“Mallory,” the Doctor said, “We've had them too.”

Mallory's eyebrows rose up. “What?”

“Hallucinations. Both of us.”

“Yes, they were of bad memories,” Rose added. “I hallucinated about a recurring nightmare I had as a little girl, and the Doctor had a hallucination about...” she glanced tenderly at him. “...About losing someone he loved.” She could see his throat bob as he swallowed down emotions still fresh and unsettling.

“Interesting!” Mallory said, leaning forward in his chair. “Charles, you know, he is terrified of bees. He upset a nest as a boy and almost died from the stings.”

“So people are hallucinating things that they fear?” Rose said.

“Or we did at least,” replied the Doctor grimly.

“And that fellow in the hall,” Mallory added. “Did you notice his collar? He's a priest.”

“And he saw the devil,” the Doctor muttered to himself.

“Doctor, what was that you were saying before, about...” Rose hesitated as she glanced at Mallory. “...About someone or something reflecting our fears back at us?”

“Yes, yes, but...” the Doctor muttered, standing up and pacing as he stared at the floor, that look of intense concentration fixed on his features. “Why? Why would it do that? Doesn't make any sense. It's not attacking people. It's just making them hallucinate. What for?” He glanced up at Mallory, studying him momentarily as silence built in the room. “How's Charles?” he asked abruptly.

“He's fine now. He's back in our room sleeping. Said it was the strangest thing, he could swear they were real. They gave him some pills and he's out cold, so I thought now would be a good time to come up and talk to you, tell you about what happened at dinner after you left.”

“Oh yes! Dinner!” Rose said. “I forgot you'd mentioned that.”

Mallory turned towards her. “Yes, I had the feeling you two wouldn't be back, and I want to say I'm so sorry about how things went. The Captain... he's not himself.”

“So what happened when we didn't come back?” she asked. The Doctor was still pacing, seemingly lost in thought.

“He kept looking at the door, like he was waiting for you, and he became agitated when you didn't come back. He eventually buzzed the headwaiter and sent him to find you, but when he returned with the news that you'd left the restaurant, he flew into a rage, kept saying things about how you were his woman, and kept saying _it was her_ , and _she promised. She promised, she promised,_ he kept saying before finally just getting up and storming out. I've never seen anything like it.”

“Oh my god,” Rose said, taken aback, her face a mask of disgust and anger. “His woman? That bloke's got another thing coming!”

“But you don't understand, Rose. As I said, he's not himself. It's like he's under some sort of spell or something.”

“I don't doubt you,” the Doctor interjected. “That bloke was weird.”

“And creepy,” Rose added. “God, I couldn't stand the way he kept staring at me.”

“I assure you, he is not normally this way. I fear something is very wrong with him.”

The Doctor sat down. “Have you seen his daughter since then?” Mallory shook his head. “We wanted to speak with her. If you see her, will you send her our way, or at least let me know where you found her?”

“Of course,” he said with a bow of the head, standing and smoothing his suit jacket once again. “I should be heading back to Charles now. I wouldn't want him to wake up alone. Here's my card. If you need anything, anything at all, you call, oui?”

“Merci, my lord,” the Doctor replied, taking the card from him.

“Pah!” the baron said with a smirk. “None of that nonsense, now. It is Mallory or nothing.”

“Oh, I like you,” Rose said with a bright smile.

“The feeling is mutual.” He bowed slightly and turned to go, Rose and the Doctor following him to the door to see him out.

“I'll text you our number,” Rose said. “Tell Charles we hope he feels better.”

“I will, madame.” He bowed again to them both. “Au revoir.”

“So long,” the Doctor said as they watched him leave, then closed the door behind him.


	11. Part 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, lotsa feels, a sprinkling of humor, and a wee bit of plot advancement. =)

The next morning, just as Rose was beginning to stir, something soft and fluffy and slightly damp landed on her face in a heap. She squeaked in surprise and pulled it away as she rolled onto her back. It was a towel.

“Doctor!” She tried to sound indignant, but couldn't quite stifle groggy laugh. “What on Earth...?”

“Come on, Rose! Don't you remember what today is?” she heard him call from the loo.

“I can't even remember my middle name before coffee,” she slurred with a groan. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“It's Marion. And it's tattoo day! Remember? Sarah called earlier to remind us.”

“Oh my god... you're really going through with this?” She suddenly felt much more awake.

“'Course I am! A promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, but a tattoo though...” She rolled over, looking towards the open en suite where the Doctor stood. He was in his blue and red pinstriped trousers and no shirt, leaning in close to the mirror in a way that caused his face to be obscured by the bedroom wall.

“Exactly!” He sounded enthusiastic enough. Maybe he really wanted this.

She tossed back the blankets and sat up, stretching indulgently. “No going back once you do it...” she said through a yawn.

He poked his head out from behind the wall with a grin. “Exactly.” His eyebrows bounced energetically. She'd almost forgotten about the way he'd been clocked in the head the day before. The bruise on his temple had spread, leaving splashes of purple bleeding into his cheekbone and around his eye. It looked ghastly.

“God, your face... do you feel all right?”

He shrugged, returning to the mirror. “Bit of a headache is all. That's nothing new, I suppose.”

Rose bit her lip pensively and stood, walking up behind the Doctor and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his upper back. “Just a punched-in-the-face headache though... right?” He stopped mid hair-ruffle, tensing up a little before resuming his work. She frowned, pulling back a bit and gently turning him away from the mirror to catch his eye. “Right, Doctor?”

He hesitated. “Yeah... yeah, mostly.” He half smiled and looked down at his bare feet guiltily.

Rose felt a surge of anger which was quickly overpowered by the weight of profound disappointment and worry. “Mostly...”

He glanced up, catching her eye briefly before averting his gaze, looking for all the world like a schoolboy who'd been caught cheating on an exam. “Yeah... maybe... well, some at least.” Before she could say anything, he wrapped her in a hug, pulling her head against his chest and resting his chin on her hair. “Only hurts a little, though, so that's better, right?” He cringed inside, trying to ignore the fact that he was downplaying his discomfort for Rose's benefit. In truth, he'd gotten very little sleep last night, finally rolling out of bed at four in the morning to take another handful of pills, then dozing fitfully on the couch until six, not wanting to wake Rose with his restlessness. The pills had taken the edge off, leaving his headache manageably dull, but still very present.

She pulled back and studied the bruise on his face. The cut had already seamed over enough to no longer require a bandage. “I see you still heal up rather quickly,” she remarked, petting his cheek gently with the back of her fingers.

“Yeah,” he said, pausing with a slight smile as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I'll be all right, Rose.” Her brow was still creased with concern. “I will,” he repeated adamantly. “I admit, it was worse last night...” he added, trying to slough away some of his guilt. “But that was from getting hit in the head. Remind me never again to get within arms length of a panicking priest,” he chuckled.

She sighed and nodded with a faint smile. “I'll try and remember for next time.” She freed herself from his arms, doing her best to shake off the gloominess. “Guess I better go shower, if you're serious about this tattoo business.” She grinned, tilting her head playfully. “Must say, I'm a bit curious what you plan on getting,” eyeing him up and down as she added, “and where...”

“Rose Tyler! ...Why, did you have something in mind?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She laughed at that and pushed him out of the loo. “Go on, mister, finish getting dressed. I've got to shower, and I'll never get done with you in here.”

“But we could have so much fun deciding on tattoo locations!”

“Out, Doctor!” she said with a laugh.

 

-

 

While Rose showered, the Doctor hastily threw on a red novelty t-shirt that read _never trust an atom, they make up everything_ , followed by his blue and red pinstriped jacket and red converse. He called down for breakfast; a simple meal of toast with jam, poached eggs, and an assortment of sliced fruit.

And coffee, of course. Lots of coffee.

Rose emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a cream colored hoodie jumper, just as the food was arriving. They ate quickly, then threw on coats, making it out of the suite by eleven.

They rode the lift to deck four and followed Sarah's directions to the Inscribe Vibe tattoo studio. It was a small establishment—unsurprising, considering the limited real estate on board. When they walked in, they were greeted by classic rock, sandalwood, and walls papered thickly with an impressive assortment of music posters and gorgeous original drawings. They found themselves in a waiting area with a reception desk, currently vacant, and they could hear the sound of voices over the musical din, but couldn't quite make out what was being said.

The Doctor and Rose approached the railing and looked down into the studio. Stairs led to a sort of open basement that housed two tattoo chairs, each with their own machines and rolling stool for the artist to occupy while they did their work. One chair was empty. The other was occupied by Sarah, her shoulder already under the needle as a young female artist of Japanese descent worked the coil machine. A man stood nearby, chatting with Sarah, arms folded casually across his chest. He wore a black apron over his t-shirt and jeans, and a heavily pomaded smear of bleached blond hair fell partly over one eye.

Sarah glanced up as they leaned against the railing. “Oh, hey guys!” She smiled happily. Her cheeks were rosy, and there was a slight luster of perspiration on her brow, but she didn't look tremendously uncomfortable as the woman carefully drew the needles up and down her shoulder.

“Sarah!” The Doctor grinned and waved down at her. “How goes the inking? Not too prickly, I hope.”

“Nope! Not bad at all.”

The man hastened up the steps to join them, holding out his hand. “Hey mate, I'm Bobby. John, is it?” He tossed his head to coax hair out of his eyes.

“It is indeed! But you can call me Doctor.” He stuck out his hand, and Bobby took it in a friendly shake, glancing at Rose as he did so. She smiled at him and held out her own hand, which he shook politely.

“I'm Rose. Rose Tyler. I'm just, you know, along for the ride,” she chuckled, tucking her hands in her back pockets.

“Nice, nice. Welcome,” Bobby shook her hand as well. “Always good to bring a friend along.” He gestured towards the stairs with a heavily tattooed arm. “Come on, Doctor, let's talk about what you'd like, yeah?”

They went down into the studio and discovered a little alcove beneath the waiting area, illuminated in florescent cyan and pink where a table and chairs were situated, an assortment of portfolios scattered across the surface. They sat down, Rose and the Doctor on one side, Bobby on the other. He flicked on a desk lamp, bathing the table in more serviceable lighting. “So what did you have in mind? Did you want to flip through the books, or...?” He swept the streak of blond out of his face.

The Doctor fished a paper out of his pocket and set it down on the table. “I'd like this.”

Rose instantly recognized the overlapping circles and lines. It was something written in Gallifreyan. She looked at the Doctor inquisitively but he was studiously avoiding her gaze.

Bobby picked up the piece of paper. “Oh cool, cool, yeah, no problem. This your own design?”

“Not exactly,” the Doctor said, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. “But I suppose I'm the closest link to its origin that exists anymore.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Wow, really? That sounds pretty cool,” he laughed. “So what is it? I'm just curious. I love hearing about peoples' tattoos, why they chose 'em and that.”

The Doctor chewed the inside of his lip. “Well,” he drawled, “It's basically a dead language.”

“Wow, cool, cool. Amazing. You an archaeologist or something?”

The Doctor glanced at Rose, and she laughed a little. “Yeah, something like that,” he said.

“So what's it mean?”

“It's a name. Rose.”

Rose's breath caught in her throat.

Bobby grinned, glancing between Rose and the Doctor. “Ohoho, very romantic, mate. Cool, cool, well done. I'll just go get the forms for you to sign.” He stood and walked out of the alcove, leaving them alone.

She looked at the Doctor, biting her tongue excitedly. “Really? I'm your tattoo?”

“Of course, Rose! What else? Honestly!” His attempt at casual dismissal failed miserably when his cheeks turned bright pink. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I mean... if that's okay with you.”

Rose laughed. “I'm honored. Never been anyone's tattoo before.” She stared at the intricate design. “S'beautiful...”

The Doctor smiled affectionately. “Your name's beautiful in any language. Like you.”

Rose bit her lower lip, blushing as her stomach did a giddy flip. “What about your name? What's that look like?”

“Which one?”

She laughed. “Well... I thought you didn't tell people your real name.”

“I'd tell you—”

“—Really?” she said hastily, eyes shining.

He leaned over and whispered a surprisingly lengthy string of syllables whose sounds were so complex she couldn't comprehend how he even made them. When he was finished he leaned back and looked into her eyes, an inscrutable smile pulling faintly at the corner of his mouth. It was so unceremonious a moment, it almost felt like it hadn't happened at all. But she found herself flushed and slightly dizzy, a breathy half chuckle bubbling up from deep inside before she squeaked, “Blimey, that's a mouthful.”

“Thirty-eight syllables in all.”

She chuckled self-consciously. “It's beautiful. The sounds... How do you even do that? It's like a song...”

He scrunched up his nose. “It's okay. Not my favorite.”

She giggled. “You still prefer Doctor?”

He grinned. “Rose Tyler, I'll answer to anything you want to call me.”

“Well that's a relief, 'cause I don't think I'd be able to say what you just said to me,” she laughed.

“Just as well. I left that name behind a long time ago.” He sounded casual, but his eyes were shining.

“You'll always be the Doctor to me.” She bumped shoulders with him, leaning in and nuzzled his neck. He grinned broadly and wrapped his arm around her.

Bobby came back around the corner carrying a clipboard. “All right, you ready for this, mate?”

Rose sat up straighter. “Hold on there, Bobby. I think you'd better get another set of papers for me.” She turned to the Doctor and tapped her finger on the sheet with her name on it. “Go on, write The Doctor in Gallifreyan. I want one too.”

 

-

 

Two hours later, the Doctor and Rose emerged from the studio with bandages on their forearms and a bag full of aftercare supplies. They began to stroll languidly along the deck.

“People make such a big deal about how much it hurts to get a tattoo, but I didn't think it was so bad,” Rose said casually.

The Doctor looked a little pale. “Really? Blimey, I thought it was torture! Like being thrown inside a bag of cats.” He grimaced sourly.

“Oh come on, don't be a baby,” she grinned. “Hope you're not having second thoughts. Bit late for that now.”

He grinned. “Nope! You?”

“Certainly not! Never pictured myself with a tattoo, but you only live once.”

“Yeah...” He smiled wanly. “Once... Still feels a bit weird, that.”

Rose glanced at him wistfully as her smile faded, hesitating before she spoke. “You know... sometimes, when you don't think I'm looking, I see you put your hand on your chest. Like... feeling the one heart, by itself.”

The Doctor glanced at her, ears turning pink in self-conscious surprise. He made no reply, watching the ground pass under them as they walked, at a loss for words.

“Is it all right with you... being human... I mean, I know you've said you're happy, and you want this life with me. But human though. Is it... bad?”

He reached over and threaded his fingers between hers, giving her hand a little squeeze. “It's not bad. Just... different. Nine hundred years with two hearts...” They walked to the railing, their hands separating as they leaned against it, staring at the shifting waves stretching uneclipsed until they met the cold gray sky. “When I first felt my new heart, my human heart... Donna was there, of course. I told her it was disgusting.” Rose studied his face as he looked down at the side of the ship, all those decks below them, and below that the hull, colliding with the water in a churning foam. “I don't mind being part human, but I don't think I'll ever be used to it. I mean one heartbeat... it feels wrong. It feels like my heart is skipping every other beat. The rhythm of it, it's like someone pulled the plug on half myself. This body, it's like living in a hotel forever.” He sighed, regretting the frustration that had seeped into his voice. “Sorry.” His eyes sought Rose beside him, staring at the water, chewing pensively on her thumbnail. She glanced at him wordlessly, her eyes soft and full of sympathy. He pushed back from the railing, Rose doing the same as they faced each other, the Doctor reaching out and taking both her hands in his as he looked into her mournful eyes.

“It's worth it,” he said. “I want you to know that. I'd never go back. Not ever. Not for a million lifetimes.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her fervently, one hand rising to caress her cheek before sliding behind her head as he deepened the kiss. Her arms slid around his waist as she kissed him back, pressing into him, fighting back the tears of a jumble of emotions—pity, relief, sorrow, love. Overwhelming love. God, how had she lived without him these past six years? Walking around, going to work, eating, sleeping, fighting to get back to the Doctor. She had become a splintered husk of her former self, suffocating in a world of work and teatime and telly, and drinks at the pub on Friday nights, utterly dead inside until he walked back into her world to remind her what living felt like.

“Doctor Noble?”

They broke the kiss in surprise, turning to see a young boy, not more than sixteen, holding out a piece of paper and looking exceedingly embarrassed. “I was asked to give you this.”

“Who asked you?” the Doctor demanded, suddenly guarded, causing the boy to flinch sharply under his abrasive tone. He shrugged defensively.

“Dunno. Big bloke with a dodgy eye. Gave me twenty quid to pass it on.”

Rose snatched the envelope from the boy's hand and tore it open, withdrawing a slip of paper and reading it as the Doctor continued to ask the boy questions.

“Did you see where he went? Was he with anybody?”

“He just went off that way.” The lad waved an arm aft. “He weren't with nobody.”

The Doctor sighed, nodding slightly as he spoke a bit more softly. “Ta, mate. Off you go.”

As the boy walked off, Rose handed the note to the Doctor. He read it quickly.

_Meet me in 20 minutes,_  
Deck 2 starboard  
tea shop near the fountain  
Make sure you aren't followed  
There are others  
-Crowder 

“Well, that's unexpected.” The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, studying the paper further for any missed clues. Rose tugged at his sleeve.

“Doctor, twenty minutes doesn't give us much time, we'd better hurry.”

"Time! Right. Allons-y, then?"

He shoved the paper in his pocket as they ran towards the nearest lift, riding it down and emerging on Deck two. They were still port side, so they hurried up the main path until they reached the nearest crossing, darting their way past a kitchen, several store rooms, and a laundry.

“Is this staff only?” Rose mused out loud as they hurried along.

“Certainly looks that way!” He was slightly winded, and very much missing his respiratory bypass system. _Confound this primitive human body!_

She glanced over her shoulder, but didn't see anyone behind them. They made it to starboard in five minutes, stopping to catch their breath as they glanced up and down the deck in search of some indication of where this fountain might be.

“I don't suppose you brought a map,” the Doctor gasped hopefully.

“Didn't think to,” she replied breathlessly, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead.

He swallowed dryly, gulping in more air as he shucked off his coat and jacket. “Blimey, you humans overheat far too easily!”

“Oi! Focus!”

The Doctor tossed his coat and jacket behind a potted plant. “What next, then?”

“No idea.” She followed his example, tossing her coat and shop bag on top of his and pushing up the sleeves of her jumper.

“Flip a coin?” he suggested.

“Coin toss? Bit random, isn't it?”

“Not with luck on our side.”

Rose laughed. “What luck?”

“Well...” he looked her up and down.

“Doctor, this is no time for games.”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right. Sorry. Why don't we ask those workers back there?” He gestured toward the corridor they'd come through.

“Maybe... not sure we should though. He said there were others. That could mean anyone.”

“Well, it's not like they can't find us. They know we're on board, they know where our room is. If they wanted to nab us, they'd have done it by now. I think Crowder doesn't want us followed because he doesn't want anyone to know he's meeting us. Why he paid the boy to deliver the note instead of coming to us himself.”

Rose nodded. “Good point.”

“So let's ask then.” He grinned and pulled out his psychic paper, waggling it in front of her. She laughed.

The hurried back down the hall to the nearest work area, which was apparently a massive food prep station where a dozen or so workers were peeling and dicing fruit, and another dozen were distributing the chunks into cafeteria style single serving cups with lids. The nearest worker, a thick-armed man with a bright red beard cradled delicately in a facial hair net, came around the cutting counter with his arms crossed.

“Hey! Staff only, mate! You shouldn't be down here.”

The Doctor confidently proffered his psychic paper. “John Waters, fountain inspector, and this is my associate, Misty Pool. I'm supposed to inspect a starboard fountain here on deck two, but headquarters neglected to inform me of its location when they delivered the papers to my office. Would you mind directing me?”

“Oh, sorry mate,” the bearded man looked him up and down skeptically. “Just most inspectors wear ties, not fancy trousers and t-shirts.”

“Well, times do change,” Rose piped in, biting back a laugh. “Doncha think inspectors should dress how they feel?”

“Well, I...” the man furrowed his brow in confusion.

“And you wouldn't like it if they made you cut off that fine beard because you work in a kitchen, would you?” She crossed her arms.

“Oi, that's what the beard net is for...”

“Fountain, please!” the Doctor interjected sternly.

The man scowled defensively. “No need to bark at me! It's Aft. Just make a left, end of the hall, can't miss it.”

“Brilliant, thank you. And don't worry. I won't tell headquarters about this little misunderstanding.”

The bearded man frowned in puzzlement, but before he could formulate a reply, the Doctor and Rose were already out the door.


	12. Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose make a startling discovery. (Major plot advancement chapter, don't miss it!)

“Misty Pool? Really?” Rose said as they jogged along.

“Look, there it is,” he replied, slowing as they came to an open area with a cluster of little shops, the centerpiece of the plaza being a small, less than interesting water feature consisting of three brown pillars of varying heights sitting in a tepid pool, each regurgitating a feeble amount of water. He pulled a face. “It’s awful, I couldn’t possibly give that a passing grade.”

“Doctor, forget about the fountain,” Rose giggled.

“Right! Sorry. Tea.”

They scanned the shop signs until they found Aunt Maddie’s Tea Table, a humble establishment tucked between a convenience store and a hair stylist. They hurried inside, where it was just as humble. The long, narrow dining room was reminiscent of the dining car of a train, walls lined with marbled brown formica tables bracketed in orange vinyl booths, and displays of dried flower wreaths and antique hats hanging on the dusty yellow walls. In the back of the room they saw Crowder, sitting with his hands folded on the table, an untouched cup of tea steaming away before him. He was looking right at them, stone faced, expectant. They walked across the room to join him.

“Scott Crowder,” the Doctor said with one of his manic grins as they sat opposite. He glanced down at the untasted tea. “You seem to make a habit of ordering beverages you’ve no intention of drinking.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Crowder’s tone indicated he knew exactly what the Doctor meant, but he really couldn’t care less.

“All right, enough chit chat,” Rose said impatiently. “What’s the idea following me about?”

“It won’t happen again, Ms. Tyler, I assure you.” He leaned forward, folding his elbows on the table. “I’m sure you have lots of questions, but I haven’t got much time. I can’t be seen talking to you. So let me explain the situation as quickly as I can.”

“I’m all ears,” the Doctor replied.

“Me too,” Rose added.

“Three years ago, I gained employment from Captain Levy as a favor to his daughter, Helen. I believe you’ve met?” He glanced between them.

“Only briefly,” said Rose.

A server approached the table—male, dark hair, tall. “Hi, what can I getcha?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” the Doctor said.

“Same,” Rose added. “Ta.”

The server shrugged and walked away. When he was out of earshot, Crowder continued.

“I fought the cybermen alongside her fiance, Harry. We were good friends, the three of us. I was honorably discharged due to my injuries.” He glanced down at his knuckles. “Harry wasn’t so lucky.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rose said, her expression and tone of voice softening.

Crowder acknowledged her kindness with a faint nod. “Helen got me this job. Her father had been assaulted by a passenger, and knowing I needed work, she used her influence to have me hired as… well, I think on paper it says personal assistant, but basically I’ve been employed as a bodyguard.”

“If you’ve been employed for protection, why aren’t you with him now?” the Doctor asked sharply.

“That’s just it,” Crowder replied, his voice taking on a tone of personal frustration. “The first year, everything operated as expected. I’d accompany him to his public appearances on board, or any other time he was considered at risk. But things started to change. The captain became moody. Sometimes even hostile. He started using me to spy on people. He was suspicious of everything. Kept saying something wasn’t right. Something was wrong with the ship, with the crew, with the wait staff… he never said anything specific, but he looked at everyone and everything with a suspicious eye. It was like he was convinced someone was out to get him.” He was straight faced, but his hands had balled into tight fists.

“So what then?” Rose asked.

“I was going to quit. But my wife left me and filed a custody suit for our daughter. I couldn’t afford to be unemployed. I didn’t know what to do. But somehow the captain caught wind of it. To this day, I don’t know how he found out. But he promised to cover the cost of my legal fees if I remained in his employ, provided I was willing to do anything he required, no questions asked. I told him I’d have to think about it. But after meeting with my solicitor,” he looked pointedly at the Doctor, “the drink I ordered at that godawful restaurant? Your remark wasn’t lost on me. But it’s impolite to occupy a restaurant table without placing an order.” He glanced down at the emptiness of the table before them.

The Doctor frowned in annoyance. “I think you’re getting distracted.”

There was a brief silence before Crowder continued. “Well, obviously I decided to keep my job. But I asked Helen to accompany me, to give me her opinion on what was going on with her father. She seemed to think it might be an episode brought on by his grief. His wife—her mother—died two years ago. She’d begged him to take a leave of absence, but he refused. She thought maybe it was taking a toll. But after being here, seeing him… she and I agree, something’s not right.”

“So what does all this have to do with following me around the ship then?” Rose asked, irritation creeping back into her voice.

“Because he commanded me to.”

The Doctor massaged his forehead thoughtfully. “Why would he do that? Doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?”

Rose bit her lip, face troubled. “Did Helen tell you about our experience at the captain’s table the other night?”

Crowder nodded, staring silently at her for a moment as if trying to make her out. “He’s obssessed with you. The moment we left Newcastle, he insisted I set my watch on you. I didn’t understand why, and he didn’t really explain. Seemed like he just wanted to know what you were doing. Vicariously stalking you through me. I didn’t like it, though.” He shifted his gaze to the Doctor. “And after you confronted me in the sun dome, I left it. Just started making things up when he’d ask me about you. The pair of you went for ice cream and a film yesterday, did you know?” He rolled his eyes.

“Scott…” the Doctor said soberly. “Do you know who Rose Tyler is?”

He nodded. “Of course. She’s the Vitex heiress.”

“What else do you know about her?”

Crowder hesitated, glancing back and forth between them. Finally he spoke. “Torchwood.”

It was like the air between them had frozen solid.

“What about Torchwood?” Rose asked sharply.

“I know you work for Torchwood, and that your father is director there.”

“Who told you that?” Her tone was now distinctly unfriendly as she sat up straighter, folding her arms across her chest.

“Captain Levy.”

“How does Captain Levy know anything about it?” the Doctor asked incredulously.

“I haven’t the faintest. But he does.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” Rose demanded.

“Because I want you to be careful. And… I thought… maybe you could help.”

“Help how?”

“You’re Torchwood. You deal with the unusual on a daily basis.”

“That doesn’t mean we can help you with a crazy person.” Even as the words came out, Rose’s thoughts suddenly shifted. “Oh… Doctor…” She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “The hallucinations. Crazy captain. I think…” she bit back her words uncertainly.

“You’re trailing off,” he mumbled back.

“He knows about Torchwood.” she whispered.

“Indeed.”

Crowder cleared his throat.

They simultaneously turned their attention back to him.

“Hi, sorry!” said the Doctor with a manic grin.

“That was rude,” Rose added, also grinning. “Where were we?”

“I have to go,” he said, frowning at them. “I’ve stayed too long already. The others will be looking for me.”

“What others?” the Doctor asked.

“I’m not the only one under the captain’s thumb. It’s odd though. Some of them… there’s something not right with them, too. I try to keep as much distance as possible, but I think the captain knows I’m up to something.” He stood, giving a slight bow. “Thank you for meeting me. If you need to talk, call this room. It’s where Helen is staying. She’ll get you in touch with me.” He handed them a slip of paper. “Be careful.”

“Same to you,” the Doctor said, taking the paper and stowing it in his pocket.

“Take care of yourself, Scott,” Rose said.

He wordlessly tossed down some money for the untouched tea and walked out.

Rose sighed. “Well, I suppose we should order something. Wouldn’t want to be impolite.” She smirked.

The Doctor laughed. “Well, you know how much I care about manners…”

“Seriously though, Doctor, I think I—” Rose began, but stopped when they heard the faint sound of barking voices coming from outside. They craned their necks just in time to see Scott Crowder getting punched in the gut by one man while being restrained by three more. A fifth man was standing to the side giving orders.

“Oh my god!” Rose cried as she and the Doctor leapt out of their seats and ran for the door. The men were pulling Crowder onto an idling shuttle, and they started to drive off just as Rose and the Doctor flew out of the tea shop, giving vain chase as the vehicle sped down a long corridor, finally turning a corner and disappearing from sight. They ran on, but when they reached the intersection they found no sign of the shuttle or the men.

Rose hunched over, gasping for breath. “Where do you think they’re taking him?”

“Someplace very very bad,” The Doctor swallowed drily between heavy breaths, running his hands through his hair. “Beyond that? No idea.”

“We should call Helen and warn her.”

The Doctor scrunched up his nose. “Maybe. I mean she should know about Crowder, but… his own daughter? He wouldn’t really… would he?”

Rose wiped beads of sweat from her nose. “Doctor, I think I have an idea how the captain knows about Torchwood. And he might not hurt his own daughter. But a volchaski absolutely would.”

He stared at her incredulously. “A what?”

“A volchaski. It’s a parasitic alien race, synthesized by the sontarans as a biological weapon. But they lost control. The volchaski went rogue, formed their own alliance and started attacking other species, taking down entire governments from the inside. Literally.”

The Doctor blinked, mouth agape, totally speechless.

Rose stared back at him a moment. “Doctor… you trying to catch flies or something?”

“Rose Tyler… you’re amazing,” he finally squeaked with a breathy laugh. “Nine hundred years in time and space, and here you are schooling me on an alien race I’ve never heard of.” His eyes were gleaming. _Oh my god, is he actually holding back tears?_ She couldn’t suppress a proud grin. “Well, I been around a bit myself, you know. Besides, I have the advantage of experience in this universe. They probably don’t exist in our old world.”

He suddenly closed the distance between them and kissed her passionately, an act she accepted with a surprised squeak that gave way to hums of pleasure. She broke away with a gasp. “Doctor, really! This is hardly the time!”

“Right! Sorry. You were saying?” He licked his lips and swallowed noisily.

She grabbed him by his belt loop and pulled him after her. “Come on, let’s go where we can talk in private.”

 

They went back to where they’d left their things in the abandoned hallway, gathering them up and taking them back to their room, where they deposited them in a heap on the bed. They were completely exhausted and famished, realizing that in all the excitement they’d missed lunch, so they decided to order in an early supper. They kicked off their shoes, and Rose changed into a pair of yoga pants for the sake of comfort.

When she came out, the Doctor was just placing the room phone back in its cradle. He turned a troubled glance her way. “I tried calling Helen again, but she’s not answering. I hope we’re not too late.”

Rose chewed her lip. “Me too.”

Dinner arrived, and they took their plates of pasta and salad to the couch and ate while they talked.

“So, we’re alone, no one’s coming to the door. Ready to tell me more about the volchaski?” The Doctor bit into a breadstick dipped in marinara. “Mmm… never been so hungry. These human bodies really are demanding.

“Tell me about it,” Rose said around a bite of ravioli. “Okay, so the volchaski. First of all, they were wiped out. Well, mostly wiped out. A couple of years ago, we found out one of Torchwood’s employees was fostering one in the lab.”

“Oh, you are kidding me…” the Doctor groaned. “Bloody Torchwood!”

“It’s not what you think,” she said defensively. “The volchaski, they’re a telepathic race. They can’t mind control you, but they can influence you when they want to. They feed on fear—that’s what I think the hallucinations are about. But it’s not that simple. Unless they have a host body, they can’t feed, and if they can’t feed, they start… well, this is a bit simplistic, but they sort of digest their own bodies, so they get smaller and smaller. I don’t know how long this one had been without a host, but my understanding was that it was quite small, about the size of an inchworm.”

“Why do they need a host to feed? If they feed off fear through telepathic manipulation, what does a host body have to do with it?”

“It’s how they were created. The sontarans wanted to control people through fear, but they also wanted to destroy. They designed the volchaski to seek a host first, then use their telepathic abilities to suppress others through fear. The fear would cause people to behave irrationally, either causing them to destroy each other, or making them vulnerable to the volchaski who were seeking new hosts. The sontarans needed to motivate the volchaski to seek out hosts, so they synthesized a race that was only mildly telepathic—unless they had a host mind to enhance their telepathic power. So, fear is food, creating fear requires telepathy, telepathy requires a host brain. That was their motivator. Only the sontarans didn’t count on one thing.” She took another bite.

“Which was?” The Doctor asked, twirling spaghetti onto his fork.

“The host brains also enhanced their intelligence. They’re rather primative on their own, but when they find a host, it makes them intelligent. And that intelligence bred a sense of independence, and a resentment towards the sontarans. That’s why they rebelled.”

“So how did Torchwood get their hands on them?”

“That’s just it. We never had them, not officially. But we found that one in the lab. The employee hadn’t yet allowed the volchaski to attach itself to her, but it had her under its influence. It was only a matter of time before she’d welcome it completely.”

“So they can’t generate food without a host, but they can influence people with their mild telepathic abilities… to what? Persuade them to do what they want? Foster trust?”

“That about sums it up. They create a situation that leaves the intended host vulnerable, then present themselves as a creature that can help them.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well…” Rose swallowed, licking her lips. She took a sip of wine, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “She disappeared. With the volchaski.”

The Doctor’s eyes bulged. “What?”

“What I mean is, she tried to run off with it, but she drove her car off a cliff and into the sea. They scoured the water for days but never found her or the car. Eventually they had to file it away under presumed dead.”

“A creature with that much power, and you file it under presumed dead?!”

Rose scoffed defensively. “I didn’t file it under anything! I know about the case, but I wasn’t part of it! And what were they supposed to do? It had escaped. They did all they could!”

The Doctor rubbed his forehead. “Right… sorry. You’re right.”

“You really need to give our Torchwood more credit, Doctor. They’re not perfect, but they do good work.”

“I know,” he sighed tensely. “I’m sorry.” He set his plate on the coffee table, chewing the inside of his lip pensively. “It’s just hard to compartmentalize one Torchwood from the other. I’m trying, but it’s not easy.” He looked up at her. “Rose… they took everything from me.”

Rose furrowed her brow. “Not… everything…”

“Yes, Rose. They took you. You are everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And… having you wrapped up in them here in Pete’s World… there’s a fear, an irrational fear, that they’ll take you again.”

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, setting her own plate next to his and downing the rest of her wine. “Listen, Doctor… you’re not going to like this—“

“No, I know I won’t,” he said roughly.

She gave his hand another squeeze. “The captain’s been acting strange for a couple of years now.”

“Which matches the timeline of the disappearing volchaski,” he concluded. “If it’s been trying to influence the captain, maybe that’s manifested itself in what Crowder perceived as paranoia.”

“Right. And now that he’s completely off his rocker, it’s likely the volchaski has managed to fully attach itself to his brain. That would add up with the hallucinations people have been having. And his obsession with me?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said softly, staring at their intertwined hands. It was like he already knew what she was going to say, and was just waiting for her to say it.

“The volchaski knows I work for Torchwood.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said with a nod.

“Maybe it sees this as an opportunity to infiltrate Torchwood from the inside… through me.”

The Doctor swallowed thickly. “As a host.”

“I can’t say for sure, but I think… it’s entirely possible I’m its next target.”


	13. Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes try to get some rest, but their sleep is interrupted.

The Doctor was standing in the soft amber light of the TARDIS library, the low rumble of the engines blending with the crackling hearth fire; the smell of burning maple and the papery scent of old books, underscored by the tang of hot metal.

_Right then. I'm dreaming._

He remembered being with Rose, arguing about whether or not they should try to get Rose off the ship. Him saying it was the only option, her saying it wasn't an option at all. In the end she was right. As much as he wanted her safe, there was no practical way of making her so, and they would reach Iceland in another thirty-six hours anyway. _Well, more like twenty-six hours now, if my time sense is still up to snuff._

They'd spent some time exploring Rose's files on her laptop, looking for any information about the Volchaski that might have run aground on her hard drive. In the end, they learned little more than what they already knew. By then it was late, and they decided they'd be able to think more clearly after a good night's sleep.

And now here he was, body sleeping, but mind wide awake.

He wandered over to the hideous pink sectional and sat down with a plop. He was exhausted. Sure, his body was asleep now, but his mind was supercharged, full of apprehension and circular thoughts. _What if? What if the Volchaski gets Rose? What if she isn't careful enough? What if I can't save her? What if... what if... what if..._

He was no stranger to loss. He had experienced it so many times he couldn't even keep track anymore. But the prospect of losing the same person twice... and not just any person, but the one who mattered most.

He started imagining a domestic life without Rose Tyler. He'd be lonelier than he'd ever been. He'd have to find a job, with no credentials. Probably end up working in a shop somewhere, counting down the days until the weekend, getting hooked on evening soaps, battling depression with too much ice cream... _well, maybe not that last one. Well, maybe if it were banana ice cream. Well, maybe it could be vanilla if there were bananas sliced on top..._

His thoughts inevitably shifted to Donna. Her absence was conspicuous. He'd been trying not to think of her with everything that had gone on in the last twenty-four hours. But she had been eerily silent. In fact, she hadn't spoken to him since the last time he'd dreamed of the TARDIS. And even then, it was a corrupted holographic message. Not the real Donna. And he couldn't quite remember what she'd been trying to say.

He sighed, sinking lower into his seat, legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He noticed randomly that tonight, his subconscious had dressed him in his old brown pinstripes. He almost smiled. He did miss that old suit. Rose always fancied it. Now his thoughts were on Rose again. _What if... what if... what if..._

He groaned in frustration and sat back up, rubbing his face. A bit scratchy. He needed a shave. Random details. His brain was an odd duck.

 _Where is Donna?_ He glanced across the room to the door and found it closed. So probably not at the console again. A relief. After last time, he wasn't sure he was up for another encounter with the TARDIS, subconscious or otherwise. His chest began to ache at the memory. Touching the console in his dream. It had felt so real. So excruciatingly real.

He stood up again, fighting to rein in his thoughts. Blimey, it was shaping up to be a long night. He wandered over to the nearest bookshelf, the one near the fireplace. It's where he'd kept all his favorites. An eclectic assortment. Rowling and Tolkien shuffled in amongst Verne, Christie, and Austen. Mass market thrillers sharing a shelf with the likes of Shakespeare and Salinger, Charles Dickens and Harper Lee. Kurt Vonnegut and Philip K. Dick cavorting with the Brontë sisters. He hadn't read any Wilkie Collins in a while. That might do for a diversion. Ah, here it is, The Moonstone, sandwiched between...

“Laird... of the Mist?” he muttered in confusion. “And... Proof by Seduction?!” his tone escalating in horror. “Donna! Stay out of my books!”

He scanned the titles more broadly, eyes zeroing in on several romance titles. Goddess of the Hunt... The Highlander's Touch... Yours Until Dawn... _Blimey, Donna, your taste in literature is apalling! ...Still... not fair to criticize it if I haven't read it myself, I suppose..._ He snicked a paperback off the shelf. Goddess of the Rose. It was like she'd left that one there on purpose to tempt him. He glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching—which he realized was absolutely ridiculous, but he did it anyway—then wandered back to the sectional and flopped down, propping his plimsolled feet on the glasstop. He opened the well-worn cover.

_Doctor..._

He jolted upright, staring at the title page. It had messy pink handwriting all up and down the margins. Donna's writing.

_Doctor, I don't know if you're reading this. The walls are closing in. I have to hide. I think something terrible is happening. God, can't you feel it? I thought you were supposed to be a crack at this psychic stuff! You've got to help me! Please!_

-

The Doctor woke suddenly, feeling so disoriented that he rolled over and fell off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud and an oof, blankets and bedsheets landing on top of him in a pile. Pain lanced through his temples, the pressure in his head so intense that it elicited a groan from the back of his throat as he fought against it.

“Doctor!” Rose squeaked from above. He opened his eyes and saw Rose's hazy shadow hovering over him. She climbed off the bed and knelt beside him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he gasped through clenched teeth.

“Where are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, no, not hurt. Not injured. My head.” He grabbed at his hair, rolling onto his side and curling up in a ball. “Something's wrong,” he rasped. “Donna.”

“Doctor, how do I help you,” Rose said. He could tell she was tapping into her Torchwood training to stay calm, which meant she wasn't calm at all. Not on the inside. He swallowed against a paper-dry throat.

“Some water. And my bag in the loo.”

She quickly disappeared. A light came on from the en suite, and he could hear the sound of rustling and running water. Then she was by his side again, setting the bag on the floor beside him and holding out the glass. He half sat up, trying to ignore the throb of pain in his head, rummaging through the bag and retrieving his Torchwood pills. He dumped four into his palm, pushing them clumsily into his mouth and washing them down with the proferred glass of water before lying back down on the floor. He could see Rose examining the bottle, her expression inscrutable. After a moment, she slowly dropped them into his bag and pushed it aside.

She stood up, bent over him, offering her hands. “Let me help you back into bed.”

He wordlessly put his hands in hers and let her pull him gently off the floor, easing him back into the bed. She covered him and sat beside him, rubbing his back and neck, careful not to jostle him too much. Guilt flooded his chest, overwhelming his exhaustion. He was wide awake now.

“They're from Pete,” he finally said. She stopped rubbing for half a moment before continuing.

“Why didn't you tell me?” The question was soft. There was no anger. Only hurt. He could hear pent up tears in her voice, and his stomach did an uncomfortable flip.

He sighed pensively, reluctant to be completely honest, but seeing no way around it. “I didn't want you to think I was opening the door to Torchwood.” He swallowed slowly. “Because I'm not.” His words were met by silence. “I didn't even ask for them. Pete saw I was suffering and came to me with them, saying they were still in the trial phase, but that they might help. I wasn't even planning on taking them. But my headaches were... are... getting worse. As soon as we—” He stopped suddenly, muscles tensing. He lifted his head off the pillow and half rolled to face Rose, ignoring the wave of pain and pressure in his head. “Oh Rose, I am so thick...”

“Doctor, what is it?”

“The headaches. They started getting worse once we boarded the ship! Maybe it wasn't just the TARDIS withdrawals. Maybe I was picking up the telepathic frequency of the volchaski, only my telepathic abilities have been on the fritz since the TARDIS left, so it manifested as headaches. I didn't recognize it for what it was!”

“But if that's what was happening, why were the pain killers making your headaches go away?”

“Because they're not pain killers.”

There was a sudden pounding on the door. Like the flat of a fist, urgent, but muffled. Cautious.

Rose instinctively slipped off the edge of the bed, but the Doctor rolled over and grabbed her arm before she could take a step towards the door. “Rose, no,” he hissed. “Let me.”

She snapped her head back around, looking down at him, soft hair partially concealing her face from the orange glow of the en suite, leaving her features unreadable. “Doctor, don't be ridiculous. Can you even stand up?”

“I can if I must.” He dropped his feet to the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position, clutching the mattress and squeezing his eyes shut against the pounding in his head.

The thumping on the door returned, a little louder this time. Rose gently cupped his shoulder. “I'll be careful. I'll look through the spy hole first, and I won't open it for anyone that isn't safe. I promise.”

“How do you know who is and isn't safe?” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Because I will,” she said with a smirk. “Call it... Rose's intuition.” She smiled and brushed a finger down his cheek, then hurried away.

“Rose!” the Doctor rasped, struggling to stand as he fought a wave of dizziness and nausea, using the wall by the bed to steady himself. She was already out of the room, turning on lights as she went, the sudden brightness causing him to cringe. He waited for the room to stop spinning before making his way towards the door as quickly as he could manage, leaning against the jamb when he reached it. He could see Rose pulling away from the spy hole. She turned a glance his way, looking troubled. “It's Helen!” Her voice was urgent, though barely above a whisper. Before the Doctor could say anything, she had the door open and was pulling the willowy girl into the room, hastily closing the door behind them and locking it.

The Doctor shuffled into the common, leaning on the back of one of the plush chairs to ground himself. “Helen, what are you doing here?” he asked, voice strained, his free hand reaching up to massage his browbone where it intersected with the bridge of his nose.

“Thank god you're alright,” Helen said, her husky voice cracking slightly under the weight of her unstable composure. She wore a black wool peacoat with the collar turned up around a thick red scarf, a slouchie black ski cap pulled low over her ears. She shivered, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched.

“Why do you say that?” Rose asked warily.

“It's Scott. Scott Crowder. He was supposed to meet me for tea yesterday,” she glanced between the two of them. “He's been on edge, even scared, and he told me he was going to try to speak with you because of all this business with my father. When he didn't show up, I just knew something was wrong. It's not like him at all. He's always very punctual, and he never stands me up. Ever.”

“Yes, we tried to ring you late yesterday afternoon, but you didn't pick up.” Rose put a gentle hand on her arm, guiding her towards the sofa. “Come, sit down, you'll be much more comfortable. God, you're like ice! I'll make some tea.”

“I haven't been back to my room since... well, after Scott didn't show up, I headed back to see if maybe he'd left me a message, but when I arrived, my door was open, and the place had been torn apart. I could still hear people inside and... I don't know, I guess I just panicked and ran away. I've been hiding on different decks, trying to avoid cameras, but that's almost impossible. I don't even know if they're looking for me, but I've been wandering around most of the night. Finally I decided I'd better come see you myself.”

The Doctor sat gingerly in the chair across from Helen. “Why didn't you come sooner?”

“I didn't think to at first. I just wanted to get away and hide. But wandering around, desperately hoping to run into Scott... I began considering asking you if you knew where he might be. It was pretty late by then. I was debating on whether or not it was worth disturbing your sleep when it occurred to me that you might actually be in danger yourselves.” Rose brought Helen a cup of tea and threw a blanket around the woman's shoulders. “Thank you.” She sipped it gratefully.

“Why do you think they were ransacking your room?” Rose asked as she sat down next to her.

“I don't know. I mean I can't imagine a reason. It must have something to do with Scott. I mean I'm the captain's daughter. No one would ever even entertain an idea like that without...” She bit her lower lip.

“Without the captain giving the order to,” the Doctor finished. Helen nodded.

“Still, why not just ask you for whatever it is he was looking for?”

“He knows Scott and I are close. I'm certain that whatever he's upset with Scott over, in his mind I'm just as guilty.”

Her remarks were met with silence as Rose and the Doctor exchanged troubled glances.

“Helen,” the Doctor said gently, “after we met with Scott yesterday, we witnessed a group of five men beat him and haul him off in a shuttle car. We ran after them, but...”

“They'd escaped before we even started chasing them,” Rose added somberly. “They had the car, we were on foot. It was hopeless.”

Helen looked stricken. “Oh my god, Scott...”

“Listen,” Rose said. “It's too much to explain now, but the reason they took Scott is... well, he knows some things about us, and they don't want him trying to interfere. This isn't easy, I mean, the captain is your father, but... he wants me, because of who I am, and he thinks Scott will try and stop him. So, if what you've said is true, then...”

The Doctor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He wasn't after something in your room. He was after you.”

“But you weren't there,” Rose said. “So they did the next best thing. Looked for clues as to where you might be.”

“You really lucked out,” the Doctor added.

“But...” she glanced between them. “But none of this makes sense. If he wants you, why doesn't he just come get you?”

Rose glanced at the Doctor, then back at Helen. “It may come to that. For now, though, I think he's afraid of me. ...Well, enough to be cautious, anyway,” she ammended.

Helen wrinkled her eyebrows. “I don't understand...”

“It's a lot to explain right now. But for the time being, we believe we're relatively safe here. And as long as no one saw you come here, you should be safe, too. Now, it's late, the Doctor's not very well right now—”

“Oh. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize,” she glanced sheepishly at the Doctor, who was rolling his eyes at Rose.

“I'm fine,” he reassured Helen.

“What I mean,” Rose continued, “is that everyone should get some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning and try to come up with a plan, yeah? Helen, you can take the other bedroom. It's got its own loo, and I'll lend you some jimjams.”

Helen sighed pensively, biting her lip, but finally nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Rose smiled encouragingly. “No problem. Don't worry. We'll find Scott, and we'll help your dad. Whatever's wrong, we'll figure it out together. Okay?”

The Doctor studied Rose, the corner of his mouth twitching at the hint of a smile. She'd always had a beautifully nurturing way with people. Whenever he was wrapped up in the mystery, he often had blinders on to how it was effecting those around him. But Rose always saw to it that no one got left behind or forgotten. It was a trait he found supremely admirable, one he marvelled at. _Rose Tyler. You... are... amazing._

He pulled himself back into the present, realizing Rose had taken Helen into the other bedroom—no longer afraid now that she understood the hallucination was just that—a trick meant to frighten her. Now she was bringing her some pajamas. Now apologizing for them being the wrong size, but making sure the set had a drawstring to keep the bottoms from falling down. Finally, Helen had closed the door and Rose was back at the Doctor's side, pulling him into a soft hug so that his cheek was against her stomach, and her fingers were gently fluffing his hair.

“How're you feeling?” she asked quietly.

“Mmm... tired... a little better though...”

“Come on, let's get you back to bed.”

She let him lean on her, though his need for support had lessened considerably. The pills were beginning to work their magic. He lowered himself face down onto the mattress, Rose pulling the blankets back over him. He could hear Helen's shower running as Rose walked through the common, turning off all the lights. The sound was muffled by the bedroom door closing, and he could hear Rose go into the loo. The orangey glow behind his eyelids went black as she turned off the light and a moment later he felt her climb into bed.

“Rose, you're wonderful,” he mumbled through sleepy lips.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I don't deserve you.”

“Don't be daft.”

“Why are you with me?”

“Doctor...”

“You deserve so much more.”

“I deserve to have what I want. And what I want is you.”

The Doctor couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just let out a contended hum as he drifted off, the throbbing in his head now of secondary importance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I swiped the romance titles off this page. I don't actually read romance, so I had to do a little research. LOL! https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/5454.Best_Romance_Authors_Ever


	14. Part 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Rose, and Helen formulate a plan.

“As much as I agree we need to find Scott, I think we have to be very careful how we go about it.” The Doctor was pouring coffee into Rose and Helen's cups as he spoke, while Rose spooned raspberry jam onto a triangle of toast, which she offered to Helen. The woman nervously raised a hand in silent refusal.

“Remember, the volchaski is telepathic,” Rose said gently, setting down the toast and licking jam off her finger. “Not only that, but it's very aware of who all three of us are. We can't just go around asking questions.” She threaded her fingers together, leaning her elbows on the table as she tried to catch Helen's elusive gaze. “And while it's wary of you because of your friendship with Scott, it may not realize that you know as much as you do. If it finds out, things might go bad very quickly.”

“What are we supposed to do then?” Helen asked in carefully restrained exasperation.

“There's something else to consider,” the Doctor added, poking a fork at his eggs benedict without appetite. “Well, multiple somethings.” He glanced at Rose. “How exactly does it attach to someone? Can it only control one person at a time?”

“Well, my knowledge is limited, but I think it...” she glanced reluctantly at Helen. “You know... through the ear, and...”

“Oh god,” Helen whispered, shoulders slumping.

“I'm so sorry, Helen,” Rose said, placing a hand on Helen's arm. “Believe me, we'll do everything we can to help your father.”

“So it can only control one person?” the Doctor pressed.

“Well, it can't literally control a person, just influence their behavior. Obviously it exerts the most influence over people they've attached to. But they can still exert influence telepathically, though their range is somewhat limited.”

The Doctor sighed, dropping his fork. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

Rose placed a hand on his arm. “We'll just have to be careful, Doctor.”

He glanced at her. “No, that's not what I mean. Well, I mean obviously I'm worried about the telepathic influence, yeah. But... limited range? How limited? Because people have been having fear attacks all over this boat, according to what Mallory said. And I haven't exactly seen Captain Levy wandering around the ship.”

Rose sat up straighter. “Oh god, you're right. A ship this size...”

“Rose, how do they reproduce?”

“I don't know. They're a synthetic species. I don't suppose the sontarans created them with reproduction in mind. I mean, do they reproduce at all?”

“They might have evolved a way.”

“Still though, there was only one of them.”

“Self propogation. Like earthworms.”

Rose swallowed and swiped a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Okay, Doctor, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe their telepathic range is larger than we think. There haven't exactly been thorough studies on them.”

“Yes, but think about it. Why wouldn't it have known where Helen was? Why did it insist on having us followed around?”

Rose chewed her lip. “Okay. Let's work on that theory then. Multiple volchaski, infecting enough people to exert influence over the entire ship?”

The Doctor and Rose both glanced at Helen. She stared back at them.

“Oh, you can't possibly think...” she said as the Doctor jumped up, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and scanning her up and down. “I think I'd know if a worm had crawled into my ear!”

“No secondary life forms detected,” the Doctor said, flipping his sonic and tucking it away again. “At least we know Helen's in the clear.”

Helen sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “Right, so what are we going to do about all this nonsense then?”

“If Captain Levy is still in control of the ship's crew, that implies there's a heirarchy of sorts,” Rose said. “So he's still our primary concern.”

The Doctor frowned. “Wouldn't it be nice if there was a Fright Night effect with all of them? Destroy the leader, the rest of them fall like dominoes...”

Helen furrowed her brow. “Fright Night?”

“There's no Fright Night in this universe, Doctor,” she muttered.

The Doctor looked aghast, then put his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Blimey, 'course there isn't. All my pop culture references are useless here!”

“Wait, you're from another universe?” Helen asked, then shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Why am I surprised?”

“There's still Underworld,” Rose encouraged. “And the Beatles... Oh! And Led Zeppelin—on an actual Zeppelin! Remind me to show you that later.”

The Doctor brightened. “Ohoho, brilliant!”

Rose grinned. “Tell you what. When this mess is over, you and I are gonna lock ourselves away for a week and binge watch all the most important cultural events of this universe's last century. You'll be back to your old self in no time.”

Helen leaned forward aggitatedly. “Hello, excuse me? Alien invasion happening!”

“I beg your pardon!” the Doctor said indignantly.

“She's talking about the worms, Doctor,” Rose said, play-slapping his arm. “Besides, you're human now, remember?”

“Well, half human.”

Helen stared at the Doctor, palming the top of her head. “You're half alien.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” the Doctor said defensively.

“Look,” Rose said. “Why don't we just finish breakfast so we can move on. We're getting distracted.”

They ate mechanically in heavy silence for a few minutes, avoiding the now cold eggs in favor of scones and fruit.

“You know,” the Doctor said through a bite, swallowing as he poured a warmup on his coffee, “I think we should revisit this idea of security cameras.”

“To find Scott?” Rose wiped buttery fingers on her napkin.

“Yes. And although it didn't pan out at the restaurant, I suspect the ship's security system is a digital one, and it's bound to save backup files to a hard drive. Liability purposes.” He poured more coffee for the two women.

“True,” Rose conceded.

“How are you going to manage that though?” Helen asked. “They aren't just gonna let you waltz in and access their systems.” She chased her words with a large gulp of coffee.

“Oh, I have my ways,” the Doctor said, bouncing his eyebrows.

“But Doctor, they've seen you,” Rose said. “I don't think psychic paper will be enough.”

“Psychic paper?” Helen asked.

“Hmm... right...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I'll need a disguise then.”

Rose arched an eyebrow. “Don't tell me you're gonna wear a fake mustache...”

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. “I don't think we need to take measures as extreme as that.”

“Excuse me—psychic paper?” Helen asked again.

“It's...” the Doctor began, “...well, sort of like a fake ID for all occasions. It tricks the person's brain into seeing what you want them to see.”

Helen slowly shook her head in wonder. “God... this is... just, is this really happening right now? Or am I having a mental breakdown?”

“Oh don't worry, you're perfectly sane,” Rose said with a smile.

Helen blinked, nodding. “All right then, excellent...”

“Perfectly,” Rose replied. She turned to the Doctor. “Well, what should me and Helen do while you play secret agent?”

The Doctor sighed. “Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but... I think you'd better call Torchwood.”

Rose dropped her napkin. “You... want me to call Torchwood.”

“I know,” he replied with a sigh. “I won't pretend to be happy about it, but I think this might be more than we can handle on our own. We'll need their help with containment. Just... make sure they know what they're up against. The sooner they can get here the better. For now, we're in the happy position of the volchaski being stuck on this boat, but once we hit land in... what, 20 hours? There's a huge risk some of them could escape.”

Rose nodded. “The closer we get to land, the greater the risk. Even if we managed to keep them from dropping the gangplank, they could steal lifeboats—some of them might even try to swim for it.”

“Exactly. And there's no knowing how many are on board.”

Rose sighed. “Well, I can't call them from our suite, they might be listening in. We'd be asking for trouble.”

“My room's out too, obviously,” Helen said.

“What about Mallory?” the Doctor suggested.

Rose glanced between Helen and the Doctor. “Yes, good idea. Have you still got his card?”

“On the nightstand,” the Doctor said, tossing his head towards their room.

“Okay, I'm gonna get dressed then,” Rose said, pushing her chair back.

“Me too,” said Helen, following Rose's example.

“Me too, too,” said the Doctor, popping his eyebrows with a manic grin and a little shake of the head as he stood.

-

Rose shimmied into a thick sweater as the Doctor stripped off his jimjams and pulled on some jeans. He pulled more clothes out of the closet. “Whatcha think?” he said, turning to Rose. “This?” he held up a blue t-shirt that read, _Actual Genius_. “Or this?” A red t-shirt: _Because Science_.

Rose laughed. “Does it matter?”

“Think computer expert.”

“Then Actual Genius, definitely. Besides, in your case it's true.”

“Why thank you, Rose Tyler,” he chuffed, tossing away the rejected red shirt and shoving his arms into the sleeves of the preferred blue one, plowing his head through the neck hole.

“How are you going to keep them from recognizing you. I mean even if you wear a disguise, won't they be able to tell it's your mind?”

“Only if they're infected. Besides, I think I've enough mental control to tweak my psychic frequency a bit—enough to throw them off the scent.”

“Your face though.” She pulled on some jeans and buttoned them, slipping on some boots and grabbing her coat.

“Well,” the Doctor said, putting on his glasses. “There's this. And... well, I think I'll trim the ol' sideburns.” He ran his hands across them.

Rose's face fell. “Not permanently, I hope.”

He grinned. “I've always wondered if you liked them.”

She grinned against her tongue. “And how,” she swayed flirtatiously.

He laughed. “No worries, then. They'll just temporarily take one for the team.”

“Just don't do anything to that hair of yours.”

“Nope!” he said, popping the P. “I've got this.” He whipped out a rust colored beanie with an atom embroidered on the front, pulling it over his head. “Whatcha think? Will it work?” His fringe poked out from the top of the hat, covering his eyes slightly. He hadn't cut it since he'd come to this universe, and it was getting rather long in the front.

“Hmm... actually, I think that might work.”

“Plus, I've got these!” He bounded to the closet and pulled out a red and yellow plaid wool shirt and a gray hoodie.

Rose laughed. “When did you start wearing hoodies and plaid?”

“Well, technically I haven't... I borrowed them from your mum last minute. Started packing and realized I didn't have any winter clothes.”

Rose laughed again. “She loaned you Pete's clothes for warmth? God, she's practically your mother in law already!” Her voice caught on the words. There was an awkward silence, the Doctor's eyes shining as the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Er, I'm surprised she didn't give you mittens,” Rose added in a rush, cheeks flushing hot.

“S-she did,” he stuttered. “Well, gloves. Nice ones. And a really warm scarf.”

“Did she give you the hat too?”

“Nope, that's mine.”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Same place I got the Star Wars shirts. I quite like it.” He grinned, running his fingers along the edge of the hat.

Rose bit her lip. “You're not... I mean... you know... not all the time? It's just you have, you know, really great hair... be a shame to cover it up...”

“Nah, I'll just keep it for special occasions. You know, birthdays... and, er... weddings...” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh god,” Rose squeaked, turning a deeper crimson.

The Doctor grinned, pulling off the hat and tossing it on the bed, wrapping his arms around her and propping his chin on top of her head as she buried her face in his chest. “I would, you know.”

“Me too.”

“Let's get off this boat in one piece then, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled back, lifting her chin and brushing hair out of her face, his expression now quite serious. “Rose, please... be careful.”

“You too.”

He helped her into her coat, then spun her around one more time and pulled her tightly into his arms, kissing her fervently. She kissed him back desperately, pressing her forehead to his when their lips parted.

“I'll meet you back here as soon as I can,” he said breathlessly.

“You'd better.”

“I love you, Rose Tyler.”

“Love you back, you crazy half-alien man.”

They kissed once more, then his eyes followed her retreating form, chest tight with apprehension.


	15. Part 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor heads for ship security.

The Doctor’s stress response intensified as the door closed behind Rose and Helen. His heart began racing uncomfortably, and his stomach did a little flop, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He sat down on the bed, leaning over and drawing in a huge breath, holding it in until his chest was on fire before releasing it as slowly as he could. The muted pounding in his head increased slightly.

_Be safe, Rose. Please._

Separation anxiety had been an issue for the Doctor ever since he’d been left on Pete’s World without the TARDIS. Fear of loss balanced precariously on the line between manageable and debilitating, his naturally reasonable mind constantly reining it in, pulling it away from the edge. _It’s okay. It’ll be okay._ Which hardly made it better. That was the frustration. His rational mind had no control over his physical reaction.

Losing Rose had been devastating, but he hadn’t grasped just how great his loss was until he was facing down the flood of the Thames as the racnoss queen mourned her drowning children. The Doctor had just stood there, water pouring down him in rivulets, staring death—permanent death—in the face and actually welcoming it. If it hadn’t been for Donna, that would have been his end.

And the sobering truth was that he really wouldn’t have minded.

Of course he did eventually find his own way to move on, travelling with Martha and Donna, finding new adventures and distractions, and although he missed Rose deeply, the pain of her loss had become bearable—if only just.

But now that he had her back, he relived that devastating moment at Torchwood more often than he liked to admit. And the frustration only intensified when he would try to talk himself out of the trembling and the sweat and the racing heart and the ever tightening knot in his stomach. His body simply wouldn’t listen.

It had occurred to him that this might partly be the defect of a human body. Time Lords were notoriously expert at compartmentalizing, and had an extraordinary amount of control over their physicality—something he now regrettably lacked. It made him wonder if he was really as strong as he once thought. Or had he just been cheating his way through hard times; boxing off emotions at will and pushing difficulties aside instead of being confronted by them the way humans were, whether they liked it or not?

He sucked in another deep breath and blew it out shakily, wiping his sweat-slicked palms on his thighs before standing and heading to the loo, eager to distract himself. He stopped in the doorway, debating internally on dropping everything and going after her. Staying with her. Making sure she kept out of trouble. Something about all this didn’t feel right.

_Don’t be daft. She can take care of herself._

He nodded faintly to himself, but was still unable to shake off that uncomfortable tingle at the base of his skull. He tried to ignore it, stepping into the loo and examining himself in the mirror.

He took off his glasses, feeling his cheeks and jaw. It would be strange to not have the sideburns for a little while. He’d been wearing them for so long. The rest of his face needed a shave as well, but he decided a little morning scruff might actually work in his favor and opted for a close trim of the sideburns with clippers, leaving a miniscule stubble that stood out just a fraction of a centimeter longer than the rest of his growth. It was surprising just how different he looked without them.

He put some water on his hair to flatten it, pulling it low over his eyes and throwing a bit more product in it to coax it down into a little fringe of thin spikes. The glasses went back on, then he stepped out of the loo to grab his beanie, arranging it casually on his head. The plaid shirt and hoodie went on next, open in the front, then he returned to the loo and looked himself up and down in the mirror again.

It would have to do. Not exactly regeneration-different, but hopefully different enough.

  
  


After putting on a his red shoes, he went to Rose’s nightstand and gathered up her laptop and cables. Thankfully it had been charging all night and now had a full battery. He grabbed his sonic screwdriver from his other pants pocket and opened the computer, using the sonic to get the settings he needed. He wanted the machine to be as ready to receive new files as possible. If he had any luck on his side, he’d be able to download the video files and bring them back to the room for viewing. Far less risky than trying to discretely view footage with all the security personel watching him.

He tucked the sonic and his psychic paper away in his pocket and put the laptop and cables in a backpack. After a moment’s consideration, he retrieved his Torchwood pills and dropped those into the backpack as well, zipping it closed. That nagging discomfort was still buzzing at the base of his skull, and he reached up absentmindedly to scratch it, as if it were a bug that could be brushed away. Drawing in another deep, cleansing breath, he gathered up the backpack and hurried out the door.

The Doctor made his way to an automated information kiosk and used his sonic to quickly ascertain where ship security was located. There were several small, localized security booths throughout the ship on its various decks, but the main security control room, which housed the security mainframe, was situated near the bridge.

 _Blimey. This might be more difficult than I thought._ If proximity played a role in the volchaski's telepathic abilities, being that close to the bridge could pose a huge risk—especially in light of the fact that his own mental control was very much compromised, and to a degree he had not yet fully ascertained.

Since the Tardis left, he hadn't been able to successfully create a telepathic link with another creature without killing it—a secret that he had reluctantly divulged to Pete when he was confronted about his maddening headaches. It was why Pete gave him the pills. To relieve the pain and pressure, yes (at least that was the hope), but also to subdue his telepathy altogether. 

Psychic suppressants. Pete hadn't said what they were being engineered for, and the Doctor hadn't asked. But Pete said they had the ability to block telepathic activity—both coming and going. Just how effective they were remained to be seen. And how long before the effects wore off was uncertain as well. The Doctor thought back to the night he'd had the vision of Rose being pulled into the vortex. He'd taken a dose that evening before dinner, and had the vision early the next morning. Not more than ten hours had passed. But it was difficult to say just when they had stopped working.

And there had been that dream. The one where he'd been in the Tardis consul room. Was there a psychic element to that? Could the pills be effecting Donna's ability to communicate with him? That seemed unlikely, since technically she was already inside his mind, so it wasn't strictly telepathic communication. Still, something was hindering their ability to connect, and nothing else had yet presented itself as a possible cause. The Doctor shook the thought away. He would have to worry about Donna later.

He tucked the sonic away, then opened the backpack, fishing out the pill bottle and popping a dose in his mouth, chewing it up and swallowing.

“Auugh, blaaugh...” he said, gagging slightly and flapping his tongue about, shuddering at the bitter taste. He frantically located a drinking fountain and took several long gulps to wash down the gritty, astringent residue on his tongue. Hopefully chewing them up would make them kick in faster. “Right!” he said to himself, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Allons-y!” He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and hurried off.

By the time he reached ship security, his headache was once again reduced to a muted throb. One less thing to worry about, he supposed. He repositioned his glasses and knocked on the door, which was opened a moment later by a tall, robust black man in uniform. He looked annoyed. “Can I help you?” he asked brusquely in a thick northern accent.

The Doctor held up his psychic paper and put on his best Scottish accent. “Hello, name's Peter Vincent, I'm from tech support. Got a call you were having some problems?”

The man glanced over his shoulder. “We having a technical problem, Joe?” As he looked away, the Doctor discreetly pointed his sonic screwdriver through the gap in the door. Lights started flashing, followed by several discouraging beeps and electronic grumbles.

“Shit!” the man called Joe said. “Guess so. Did Gary call it in?”

“Not that I saw,” the man replied as he pulled the door open further and stepped aside.

“What the hell, Gary!” Joe muttered to himself.

The Doctor stepped inside. “Could you describe the problem?”

Joe threw up his hands. “Just, lights started blinking and then the screens all went black.”

“Didn't notice an issue before Gary left,” Kevin remarked, still sounding irritated.

“Well, sometimes these things are sort of off-and-on,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Probably just a software bug, ehm... sorry, what was your name?” He cocked his head.

“Kevin.”

“Right, Kevin, I'll just have a look. So,” he held up his backpack, “I need to connect my laptop to the mainframe to run diagnostic software first.”

“Okay, sure,” Keven replied. “Mainframe's over there.” He gestured towards a closet door on the opposite side of the room.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said with a grin, walking past a vast wall of monitors mounted above a cold steel desk, lined with about half a dozen conspicuously empty seats. Except for the one Joe occupied, of course, somewhere in the middle. He hoped this wouldn't take long, but he had a feeling it probably would. He needed to be able to isolate the last twenty four hours only, since there was no way he'd be able to download more than that, considering how large the ship was, and how many cameras it had.

He opened the closet to the mainframe where a massive black box filled the entire space, blinking lights, drive slots, and various cable ports spread across its front. He sat in a nearby chair and set the laptop on the desk, attaching the computer to the mainframe so he could access its files. As a safeguard, he started up Torchwood's malware scanner, just to make it look like he was running some sort of diagnostic program.

“Figures Gary wouldn't bother to mention a problem,” Joe commented. He was a scrawny white American, balding, gray haired, but with a face that looked no older than forty.

Kevin chuckled humorlessly as he sat down in the rolling chair next to Joe, lifting a can of Coke from the desk. “That's Gary alright. Weird and getting weirder.” He took a swig.

The Doctor's ears perked up. He listened closely while taking advantage of their inattentiveness, breaking out the sonic and concealing it in his sleeve as he buzzed the computer to fine tune the search and sort process.

“Tell me about it, mate,” Joe said contemptuously.

“You know what he did today?” Kevin asked.

“Aw, what now?” Joe scoffed with an eyeroll.

Kevin leaned forward. “He skipped brekkie.”

Joe was taken aback. “Gary? Skipped a meal?”

“Right?” Kevin replied with a chuckle.

“Gary. The buffet king.”

“I know. Figured he was sick or something, but when I asked, he just looked at me and said,” Kevin put on a blank look, “'I'm... fine.'” He resumed his normal expression. “Just like that. Dudes turning into a freakin' zombie. I mean maybe he's gone mental.”

“Nah,” Joe replied dismissively. “Just been playing too much World of Warcraft.”

They both laughed.

“Maybe that's why he left early.”

“Yeah. Had a guild meeting.”

“Ha! Yeah, Lewis and Gary are guildmates, and that bullshit about Cap'n needing him was just a cover to get him out of work?”

“Wouldn't shock me one bit!”

Their chuckles died down. Kevin swiveled his chair to face the Doctor.

“How long this gonna take, mate?”

“Hopefully not long,” the Doctor replied evasively, trying to keep the sudden tension out of his voice. One of the security guards acting strange? The main security room virtually empty, yet the Captain is pulling even more guards away? This didn't bode well. Furthermore, he realized that while his Torchwood pills were protecting him from telepathic invasion, they were also muting his senses, making it difficult (If not impossible) to detect anything psychically unusual. He wondered if taking them hadn't been such a good idea after all.

“Yeah, 'cause it's not great having the systems down this long.”

“No, I don't suppose it is.” The Doctor glanced up from his screen. “Okay, I'm going to try something. Watch the monitors, and don't look away. I want to know if you see anything. Anything at all. Colors, blinking, little squiggly bits, whatever.”

“Okay, sure.” The two guards turned towards the monitors.

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver. “Okay, you're gonna hear some buzzing, just tell me if you see anything.” He pointed the sonic first at Keven, then Joe, scanning them carefully. _No secondary life forms detected_. He relaxed a little.

“I didn't see a thing,” Joe said.

“Nor me,” Kevin added.

“Bollocks,” the Doctor said, stifling a smile. “Right, gonna try something else.” He pretended to type commands into the computer. “There, we'll run that for a bit, see if it fixes our problem.” He swiveled his chair and gave the guards his full attention. “Can I ask you something?”

“Whatever, mate,” Keven said. Joe shrugged indifferently.

“This Gary... has he always been such a numpty?”

The two men glanced at each other, chuckling uncomfortably. Kevin looked back at the Doctor. “Well, yes and no. I mean he's always been a freak, but ever since we left the UK he's turned downright barmy.”

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers together in his lap and putting on his best gossip tone. “What the hell happened?”

“Dunno,” Joe said. “I mean... well, have you ever watched The Office?”

The Doctor nodded. “Oh, right! Ricky Gervais?”

Joe frowned, glancing at the ceiling with mild irritation. “No, I mean the American Office.”

“Oh! ...No.”

“Look,” Kevin said, “what he's trying to say is that Gary used to be a bit of a Gareth, but now he's more of a...”

“A reem of paper,” Joe concluded. “A blank. A nothing. I swear, the guy's turned totally inward. I never know what the hell he's thinking. If he's even thinking at all.”

“I mean literally,” Kevin said, “He comes in, he sits in that chair, he stares at the monitors, and he doesn't move.”

“Not until meal break, you mean,” Joe laughed.

“Right, except today he didn't even eat. He just sat there, staring, until Lewis came and got him.”

Rose's laptop beeped. The Doctor turned to the screen. _Files Located._ He reached over and clicked the download button, then turned his attention back to the two guards, frowning. “Seems like an awful lot of screens... Why the hell are there only two of you in here?”

The guards glanced at each other again, but this time didn't say anything. The Doctor glanced at the screen. _4 minutes_. He leaned forward in his chair, taking on a conspiratorial tone. “Wait... this doesnae have anything to do with the... you know... hallucination outbreak?”

Kevin frowned. “How would you know a thing like that?” he said with some hostility.

“Oh come on, you don't think people are keeping quiet, do you? Everyone's talking about a mysterious illness that makes you lose your mind temporarily. That why it's only you two in here? The rest of them off trying to keep the peace?”

“Not exactly,” Joe said. “They've been given different assignments, that's all. We've been assurred the shortage is only temporary.”

“Have any of them come back since?”

“Just Gary.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “Why him?”

Kevin shrugged. “Figure he's too useless for any other assignment. Especially lately.”

“Well, until Lewis came and got him,” the Doctor remarked.

“Whaddaya mean?” Joe asked.

“I mean, he's wanted for something, obviously.”

Kevin folded his arms across his chest. “What are you on about, mate?”

The Doctor shrugged. “What you said before, that the captain wanted to see him.”

“What's it to you?” Joe asked defensively.

“Nothing,” the Doctor smiled disarmingly. “I'm just speculating like everyone else on this ship.”

Rose's laptop beeped, and the Doctor glanced at the screen. Download complete.

“Aha! Program's done running! Let's check on your systems now. Go ahead and watch the screens, let me know if you see anything.” When they had their backs turned, the Doctor carefully aimed the sonic and brought the monitors back to life.

“Hey! There we go!” Joe said jubilantly.

“Brilliant!” Kevin added.

The Doctor was already shoving the laptop into his backpack. “Great! Well, I'll just be on my way then. Just give Tech Support a buzz if you need anything else.” He shouldered the backpack and hurried out the door.

“Will do, mate. Thanks!” Kevin called after him.

 

-

The Doctor closed the suite door behind him and pulled the beanie off his head. “Rose! I'm back!” There was no reply. He walked through the common and into their bedroom. “Rose?” The loo was empty as well. A quick sweep through the other bedroom confirmed that the women weren't back yet.

The uncomfortable tingle at the base of his skull returned, and his breath tightened.

_Stop it. She's fine. She's probably just bringing Mallory up to speed._

He took in a deep, cleansing breath, then headed to the bar, filling the electric tea kettle with water and turning it on, then getting out three cups and the tea tins. He briefly considered waiting for Rose and Helen to get back before viewing the video files, but decided there was too little time to waste, even with Torchwood's facial recognition and image scanning software.

Sloughing off the hoodie and plaid, he ruffled his hair back into a crazy heap and grabbed the backpack, pulling the laptop out and plopping down on the sofa. He opened the computer and casually scrolled through the video files. Two hundred eighty files altogether. One twenty-four hour video file for a total of two-hundred eighty cameras.

_Blimey._

The Doctor opened up the schematic files, each listing the different camera numbers for each deck. He located a camera from the plaza outside the tea shop they'd met Crowder in, then found the corresponding video file, opening it up and fast forwarding to the time stamp that corresponded with Crowder's abduction. Sure enough, there he was, coming out of the tea shop. And there was the shuttle pulling up, and the men climbing off...

He paused the video and went frame by frame, taking several screencaps of the scene. The now boiling teapot clicked off, but he ignored the sound, instead opening up Torchwood's image software. He cleaned up the screencaps, bringing faces into focus, as well as the shuttle. The best images he transferred to Torchwood's recognition software, inputting the video files as search targets, and the image files as items to recognize. He hit start, then set the laptop on the coffee table and glanced at the door, troubled. His time sense told him an hour had already passed since he'd returned, and Rose wasn't back yet. How could it possibly take two hours and forty-nine minutes to make a phone call?

_Maybe it just takes longer to make a call from the open ocean._

That seemed unlikely.

_Rose, where are you?_

He sighed nervously and went to the bar, pouring hot water into one of the cups and adding a tea bag. He spooned some sugar in and returned to the couch, checking the scan. One hour and fifteen minutes. He sighed again, leaning his head back against the cushions.


	16. Part 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read on! ;)

Rose followed Helen out of the suite and closed the door behind them, feeling a pang of urgency in her chest. She understood how worried the Doctor was right now. His anxiety had been acute since being left on Pete's world. All she wanted was to hurry and get this errand done so that they could go back to the Doctor.

“Come on, this way,” Rose said, hurrying down the hall to the nearest lift. She slapped the button and waited impatiently for the door to open.

Helen folded her arms and glanced at Rose out of the corner of her eye. “Rose, listen...”

Rose looked over at Helen. “Yeah?”

“I just... I wanted to say thanks. You know, for helping me. And my dad.”

Rose smiled softly. “Oh... well, you're welcome, of course. Besides, can't just stand by while a ship gets overrun by telepathic aliens, now can we?” She grinned. The lift dinged and the doors slid open.

Helen smirked. “No, I suppose not.”

They stepped inside the surprisingly empty lift, and Rose hit the button for Deck six. “I mean look at you, you're helping us. Group effort, yeah?”

Helen hunched her shoulders. “Quite right. Though to be honest... I'm not sure I'd be helping if my dad wasn't involved.”

“Well that don't matter,” Rose said. “Fact is, your dad _is_ involved, and you _are_ helping. That's what's important. And you're brave, I can already tell. I mean you came to us, you risked your own safety to warn us about what was happening. You didn't have to do that. I should be thanking you.” Rose bit her lip in hesitation before adding, “Your mum, she'd be real proud.”

Helen's eyes teared up and she swallowed, biting her tongue as she looked away. “Scott told you, then?”

“Yeah. I'm real sorry...” Rose placed a gentle hand on Helen's arm. “It's hard. Having only one parent. Watching them struggle on their own. I know what that's like.”

Helen studied her. “But... your parents... they...?”

The lift dinged and the doors opened. “I'm from a parallel world, same as the Doctor,” Rose said. “I've only lived here six years. Pete Tyler of Vitex fame is my dad here, but the Pete Tyler from my world—my real dad—he died when I was just a baby. He had nothing, just me and mum. Same man, different life.”

She stepped out, glancing up and down the halls to determine which direction to go. Helen followed in subdued silence. Rose saw an automated information kiosk not far away and hurried over, navigating the touch screen to find Mallory's suite on the map, Helen following her closely.

“So... what happened to the parallel Rose?”

Rose glanced at Helen, then back to the screen. “She never existed in this universe.” She continued scrolling the maps on the screen in silence.

“Rose, I'm sorry,” Helen said at length.

Rose furrowed her brow. “What for?”

Helen studied her hands. “For my dad. For... his behavior at dinner the other night.”

Rose glanced at her. “That's not your fault. Or his, for that matter.”

“Yeah, but... well, if not for mum, none of this would have happened.”

She stopped playing with the touch screen and gave Helen her full attention. “What do you mean?”

Helen massaged her hands nervously. “When mum died, dad took it really hard. He's never been the same since. But... when I came on board, I saw right away he wasn't himself. The strangest thing, though, was when he told me he'd found someone, that he was in love. I know my dad, I mean I know him. He's still grieving for mum. I'm not sure he'll ever be over her. You have to understand, theirs was a very special bond.”

Rose nodded slightly. “Yeah... yeah, I can understand that.”

“Then you understand why I knew something wasn't right.”

Rose straightened. “Helen, what's this got to do with what's happening?”

“Dad described her to me. The woman he claimed to have fallen for. But... the woman he described, on my life, Rose, he described my mum, down to the detail.”

There was a pause, Rose grimacing in confusion. “I don't understand.”

Helen put her hand on Rose's shoulder. “He told me I'd meet her at the dinner. Rose, he meant you. You're the woman he claims to have fallen in love with. But you look nothing like my mum. She... well, I'll just say I take after her.”

Rose studied Helen carefully. For the first time really examining her, now that she wore no makeup and wore such an artless expression, so different from how she'd been at dinner—guarded, aloof, melancholy... But there was something familiar about this authentic Helen that stood before her. “Oh my god... the portrait in that dining room, that woman... that was your mum.”

Helen nodded. “That's who my dad sees when he looks at you.” She pressed her lips together tightly, expression troubled.

Rose bit her lip. “The volchaski. It preys on the weakness in a person's mind. In your dad's case, maybe it preyed on his grief, and made promises that it could bring your mum back.”

Tears welled in Helen's eyes. “Why would it do that?” She looked hurt and angry.

“It's using your father's feelings for your mother as a way to get to me by promising to bring her back.” Rose leaned against the kiosk, chewing a thumbnail thoughtfully. “Helen,” she said at length. “Have you seen your dad since that night?”

She shrugged slightly. “Later that night, but only for a moment. He wouldn't look at me or talk to me, and he seemed very vexed. At the time I thought he was angry because I left in the middle of dinner. Now I realize it must have to do with these alien worms.” She bit her lip, muttering under her breath, “God, I can't believe I just said that.” She sighed, then looked at Rose, continuing. “Anyway, I haven't seen him since then.”

Rose nodded silently. Finally, she dropped her hands onto her thighs and stepped away from the kiosk. “Right. Well, one thing I do know is that if we don't get to Mallory's soon, we might miss our chance to get Torchwood moving in time, so let's get going.” She glanced at the kiosk one more time, then pointed down the hall. “This way.”

The two women hurried off.

-

The Doctor awoke to an unpleasant beeping sound and an even more unpleasant pain in his neck. He lifted his head off the back of the couch with a groan, reaching up to rub the stiff muscles in his shoulder. Apparently he'd dozed off while waiting for the computer to finish analyzing the surveillance files. He glanced at the laptop, which was evidently the source of the beeping. A box on the screen was blinking. _Analysis Complete._

“Rose?” he called out hopefully. There was no reply.

The Doctor sat up and noticed wetness on his jeans as he did so, glancing down to see that he'd fallen asleep tea-in-hand, and the cup had tipped, spilling tea all over his trousers and part of the couch. “Ah, dammit...” He picked up the now sticky cup and deposited it by the bar, wetting a bar towel and returning to the sofa to wipe up the mess. He went into the bedroom and hastily changed into dry pants and his blue and burgundy pinstriped trousers, then hurried back to the laptop, which was still beeping insistently at him.

The Doctor sat on the dry side of the sofa and pulled the computer into his lap, clicking the “OK” button on the flashing box.

_Review analysis now or later?_

“Now, obviously,” he muttered, clicking the button.

Several windows popped open. One showed a time stamped video still from one of the surveillance cameras. Another, smaller window showed the screencap he had used as a target. The software had identified the man in the image file as being a match for the man in the video still. It was one of the men who'd assaulted Crowder. 

There were arrows on either side of the still, which said next and previous. A play button icon floated in the center of the still. The Doctor clicked it experimentally and the video began playing. It showed surveillance footage of the man walking along the deck. The time stamp in the upper right hand corner began ticking. There was a camera number in the upper left hand corner, which was hot linked to the corresponding camera on the security schematic. He watched the video play out and stop automatically when the man was no longer on the screen. 

A third window showed a quick-select list of all the items successfully found, their corresponding camera number, the length of the clip, and which item had been recognized. A fourth window had image adjustment features on sliders. Brightness, contrast, sharpen, focus, as well as options to calculate number of persons or objects present. There were other tools the Doctor wasn't familiar with, but he hoped he wouldn't need them.

He looked at the window that contained the list of items found, and located the sort by drop-down box in the upper right hand corner. Clicking it gave him a variety of sorting options. He chose newest to oldest. If he could find the most recent still of Crowder, he could find the camera and narrow down his possible location.

He located another drop box in the upper right hand corner of the window displaying the screencap. Clicking it opened a selector showing all the screencaps that had been submitted for the video analysis. He selected the image of Scott Crowder and right clicked, then selected highlight target from the menu.

Immediately the list of video files lit up with yellow bars, showing which video files contained footage of Scott Crowder.

"Molto bene!" 

He opened the file at the top of the list.

-

Rose knocked insistently on the door of Mallory's suite. “Mallory? It's me, Rose Tyler. Are you there?”

She heard rustling inside, then the door opened. Mallory stood before them, wearing an informal gray suit with no tie. “Rose, what are you doing here? And Helen!” He stepped aside and allowed them to enter.

As grand as Rose and the Doctor's suite was, this one was even grander. The layout was similar, but it was larger, with a larger deck that had not only a hot tub, but a private pool as well. The steam rising from the water indicated that the pool was heated. The bar to their right was a little smaller, but there was a door leading into a kitchen, and the dining area was larger and more formal. A platform above the entertainment area housed a beautiful white mini grand piano. This was the sort of suite one might host parties in, though currently it was empty. Mallory seemed to be alone.

“Mallory, I haven't got much time, but I need to make an extremely important phone call, and it's got to be from your phone. I promise, you can send me the bill.”

Mallory furrowed his brows. “Rose, what is the matter?”

“Helen, maybe you can explain? But I need to make this call immediately. It's a matter of international importance.”

Mallory frowned, but gestured towards the phone on the bar. “Of course, it's just there.”

“Thank you.” Rose picked up the phone and swiftly dialed a series of numbers.

“What's going on?” he said, shooting a troubled glance at Helen. She took his hand and pulled him towards the sofa and sat them both down. “Mallory, Rose said you knew there was something going on. Well, she and the Doctor have figured out what that something is. But I have to ask... how open minded are you?”

“I'm married to another man, I can't afford not to be open minded.”

She couldn't suppress a slight smile. “Yes... well... gay marriage is one thing, aliens are another.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Well, I have nothing against them, if that's what you mean,” he said somewhat facetiously.

“You might have something against this one. Or... these ones... as it turns out might be the case.”

-

Pete Tyler sighed sleepily as he clutched the couch pillow under his arms, snuggling his face into it contentedly. Jackie had Tony out at a birthday party, and the house was so gloriously quiet. He was just dozing off for what promised to be the best nap he'd had in months. And the air was so cool, and the sun shining through the windows was so warm on his bare feet, and...

_Ring-ring!_

"Uuuuuuuugh..." he groaned, burying his face in the couch pillow.

_Ring-ring!_

“This had better be good,” he croaked as he pushed himself into a sitting position and grabbed the phone.

“Pete Tyler,” he answered groggily.

“Dad, this is Rose. Listen, I've got a bit of an emergency here, and I need you to mobilize Torchwood immediately.”

He was awake now. “Rose? What the hell, you're supposed to be on vacation!”

“Yeah, well, I guess I brought work with me. Now listen, do you remember the incident with the volchaski?”

Pete was silent for several tense moments. “Oh, for god's sake,” he said at length.

“Yeah, tell me about it. And it's taking over the ship. The Doctor and me, we think it might even be reproducing.”

“They reproduce?”

“He thinks it might be self propagation, you know, like earthworms.”

“Bloody hell!”

“Yeah, and the worst bit is we hit land in less than 24 hours, so you've got to get the team out here before all hell breaks loose. Because if we can't contain them, the whole world could be at risk!”

“Right, I'm on it. Is there anything else you can tell me about your situation? Anything at all?”

“God, let me think... the captain's infected for sure, we think he's got the original worm and is sort of running the show. It seems to have influence over large areas of the ship simultaneously, which is what makes us think maybe there are more than one now. We don't have any solid indication of how many there might be, so plan for a lot, just in case. I mean there'd have to be at least ten, maybe more. They've already started farming fear on board. There have been a lot of attacks. Me and the Doctor have already been targeted once. Oh... and dad... I think it might be after me, specifically, you know... like, they want to take me over. I think it wants to infiltrate Torchwood, and it sees me as a way in. Make sure the team comes prepared for a telepathic attack, yeah?”

Pete sighed grimly. “Rose... you and the Doctor be careful.”

“Oh, you know us, dad?”

He could hear the wry smile in her voice. “Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of.”

-

The Doctor watched as the video began playing. The time stamp indicated it was about twenty minutes after they had last seen Crowder. He checked the camera number on the schematic to confirm what he thought he was seeing. They had him on the bridge.

_Well, that's less than brilliant..._

He was neither surprised nor pleased. It confirmed what he'd been afraid of. The volchaski was aware of how near it was to shore, and it was likely trying to snuff out any resistance. Making it off the ship was crucial for them. And once they were gone, they could abandon their current hosts to find new ones—ones that no one would recognize. It would be virtually impossible to stop them after that.

They saw Crowder as a threat, and they captured him. They'd been looking for Helen too. It was only a matter of time before they came after Rose. And that window of time was closing fast.

He glanced at the door, his stomach rolling over in agitation.

_Rose, please..._

Taking a deep breath, he blew it out, trying to focus on the task at hand. Wishing Rose back wasn't going to help her—if she needed help. The best thing he could do right now was get as much information as he could from these videos.

There were hours of footage to go through. He increased the playback speed to maximum and watched for a few minutes, pleased to find his Time Lord ability to absorb large amounts of information at high rates of speed seemed to have survived the metacrisis process. Still, even at this speed, the video would take hours to watch in its entirety. He took out the sonic and aimed it at the computer. The video playback speed increased exponentially, images flying by faster than a human can blink. He stared intently at the screen, concentrating all his mental energy on seeing and processing everything. Much of the video showed guards coming and going. There were always at least three guards present. The captain came and went a few times, and words were apparently exchanged. Crowder was positioned in a chair, handcuffed, mouth taped, except for when being apparently questioned by guards or the captain himself. At one point, a guard grew angry and socked him in his already bruised face. The Doctor's eye twitched in response. Eventually the video came to an abrupt end—the time stamp corresponding with the moment he'd downloaded the files.

“Wait, what was that?” he muttered urgently to himself. He set the playback speed to normal and rewound ten seconds. About two seconds before the video halted, someone started walking into the room. Their back was to the camera. All he got a glimpse of before the video cut out was a splash of hair.

Blond hair.

The Doctor felt all the color drain from his face and his mouth went paper dry.

Hurriedly, he opened the camera schematics. Remembering the room number indicated on Mallory's card, he located the proper deck, then the wing, and finally the suite itself. There were two cameras in range. He located the one nearest his room, opening the video file and scrolling through the footage. “Come on, come on...” he muttered through clenched teeth.

There they were. Helen and Rose came down the hall towards the suite. Mallory opened the door and they all stepped inside. The doctor frowned impatiently and began scrolling through the footage some more, beads of sweat springing up on his face, his hands shaking. “Come on!” he shouted angrily.

There!

He slowed the video again. Two men in security uniforms approached the door, followed by Mallory's husband, Charles. “What?” he squeaked incredulously. He watched as the two guards parted, allowing Charles access to the door. He unlocked and opened it. The three of them disappeared inside, but didn't close the door. The Doctor could just see their legs now, and the legs of others. He recognized Rose's shoes. There seemed to be a struggle, then the guards emerged, dragging a struggling Rose and Helen away with them. Mallory appeared in the door, looking outraged, followed by Charles. Mallory turned to Charles and said something urgent, but Charles reached up and grazed Mallory's temple with his fingers. Mallory fell unconscious, and Charles pushed him back inside the room, closing the door and hurrying after the guards and their captives, who were just disappearing from the Camera's view.


	17. Part 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback scene with light sexytimes, and some other stuff happens.

Three days after they saw the Tardis for the last time:

The Doctor stood in Pete's massive cellar, shrouded in a gloom only eased by thin shafts of light piercing through the small, rectangular windows that huddled near the ceiling, just above the earth outside, barred with thick iron and heavily guarded by clusters of dense shrubbery. There was a corral of workbenches and man-sized tool boxes set on locked casters. Vast rows of wall-mounted hooks and nails regulated an impressive collection of tools; spare parts were wedged wherever they could fit amongst power saws, nail guns, and drills; rack upon rack of nuts, bolts, self tapping screws, strips of gun nails, and hand nails of varying lengths and purposes; coils of wire, rope, or string; bits of sheet metal and old hubcaps, and a stack of spare tires buried under old, dusty car publications; myriad zeppelin parts shoved into odd shaped voids around the room; tape measures, squares, and squangles sitting in old tins; stacks of lumber and metal tubing, and a thousand and one other things the Doctor had yet to identify.

It was the closest thing to being home that he could find, and that was an astronomical overstatement. There was no soft, friendly, comforting hum—unless the rumble of the furnace counted, which was a pretty poor comparison. The lighting options were either stark splashes from the windows in an otherwise dark room, or the harsh and chalky glare from overhead florescent bars, which hurt his eyes and exacerbated the aching pressure in his head, so he preferred to keep them off. Nothing even close to reminiscent of the warm, soothing gold and aqua glow the Tardis had always provided. And as for interest? Well, he had to admit there were plenty of bits and bobs to play with, yes, but not the sort that he found captivating; and anyway, what would he use them for? He supposed he could ask Jackie for a to-do list. The thought elicited a queasy sigh and a shaky hand running through his hair.

He heard the door at the top of the stairs open. “I'm back, Doctor. I brought the tank, and the other stuff you wanted.”

The Doctor spun around, pasting on a manic grin and bounding across the room. “Rose! Just the person I wanted to see!”

“Mum called, said they won't be back until after five. They took Tony to see the parade downtown. Looks like we're on our own for tea,” she added with a chuckle. She was feeling her way down the stairs when the Doctor bounded up to her, lifting the terrarium out of her arms and hopping back down the steps energetically.

“God, it's dark in here,” she said, reaching for the light switch and flooding the room in that harsh, chalky glow that he despised so much. “What do you need all this stuff for anyway?”

He set the tank down on the work bench and turned, trying to ignore the way the light made the room spin around him; the way it burned his eyes and made his head scream. “I've got a surprise for you,” he said.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, smiling. “Yeah?”

“I never told you, the day I left—er, the other me, that is—he gave me something. Something important. Something... brilliant. Fantastic. Molto bene!”

She laughed. “Well, you gonna tell me what it is, or what?”

The Doctor reached into his blue-and-red-pinstriped suit jacket and solemnly revealed... a thing. A small, lumpy, brownish thing.

Rose glanced from the object to the Doctor. “What... is that?”

“It's a Tardis coral,” he replied lovingly, cradling the object in the cup of his palms with the gentleness one would employ when holding a newborn baby.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly at the hint of a puzzled smile. “A Tardis coral—what, like... like... a piece of the Tardis?”

He nodded, eyes shining. “Yep!” he confirmed with a pop of the P, gently tucking the object back into his jacket pocket.

She smiled, still looking a little confused. “So... is it... I mean... what's it for?”

His whole face lit up with an eager smile as he leaned in close, grabbing her by the shoulders. “We're gonna grow another Tardis,” he squeaked, nearly bursting with pent excitement.

Rose's eyes widened. “What?” she said excitedly through a huge grin.

“I mean it, Rose! We can grow a new Tardis!”

“Oh my god!” she cried, clapping her hands and hopping excitedly.

“We'll do it right here, in Pete's cellar! Well, I mean for now, of course. Later, we'll have to find a more appropriate spot. But think! Now we won't be stuck here, with mortgages and jobs, and-and-and keys, and carpets and things!” He glanced up at the ceiling as if he could see the sky through all the drywall, beams, and two-by-fours. “Rose... we'll be home. We'll be free.”

Rose's happy grin faded slightly.

He tilted his head, furrowing his brow. “What, what is it?”

“Are you... I mean... do you feel that way? Stuck?”

The Doctor straightened and took a half-step back as he looked searchingly at her, confused. “N... no... I mean...”

She rubbed her arm timidly as an awkward pause stretched between them. Finally she spoke. “I sort of forgot, you know... how you didn't get a choice either. The Doctor... I mean, the other you, he... he left us both. D'you... wish he hadn't?”

“What?” he said incredulously. “No! No, 'course not!”

“But you feel stuck... here... with me...”

“No! Rose, that's not what I mean—”

“You miss her,” she said. Her tone was gentle; not unkind.

The Doctor blinked, swallowing thickly. He opened his mouth wordlessly, glancing away for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“And if given the choice...” She let the question fade.

The Doctor stared at her intensely. He looked hurt, almost offended. “Rose...” he croaked, his eyes burning, but not from the light this time, as sudden realization flooded over him. _Does she actually think I'd have chosen the Tardis? I would never..._ He missed the Tardis like an ache in the pit of his stomach, but Rose... Rose had shattered him. He reached up to rub his eyes, hoping she hadn't seen the tears that almost fell. “This light, it's-it's making my headache worse, I'm sorry...”

“Right, 'course,” she said hollowly, moving across the room and up the steps. The Doctor clenched his teeth and swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes followed her. _What am I doing? Why am I standing here, letting her think that?_ He bounded up the stairs as she flicked off the lights and spun around to face him, the pathetic trickle of light from the window casting both of them into harsh contrast.

“Never,” he said tensely, his eyes searching hers.

A tear slid down Rose's face and she swiped it away. “Doctor... Doctor, I'm sorry—”

He pressed his forehead against hers and rested his hands on her cheeks gently. “I would never,” he repeated firmly. “I miss her. God knows I miss her, but not like you.”

“But you left,” she whispered, voice trembling as she clutched the lapels of his jacket. “The only one of you who had a choice left!”

“I stayed, Rose.”

“But you're the Doctor!” she hissed.

“I'm this Doctor,” he replied firmly. “And this Doctor stayed. Not against his will.” His fingers slid down and tightened around her shoulders. “If given the choice, a thousand times again, I would always choose you. Always!”

“But I've trapped you here.”

“Rose, don't. Please.”

“You'll never see her again, and it's all my fault.”

“Stop it!”

“And the withdrawals. Oh god, Doctor, how could I do this to you? How could you do this to yourself? How—”

The Doctor pressed his lips to hers tenderly; a mournful, delicate kiss. He could taste the salt on her skin as his mouth lingered against her trembling lips, not searching for more, but refusing to pull away as he reached up and caressed her cheek, kissing her softly again, feeling more tears fall from her eyes. He wiped them away, bringing his other hand to the back of her neck as he kissed her once more, breaking free and nuzzling her cheek, the wetness of her tears washing his skin. “I love you, Rose. I could say it a thousand times a day for a thousand years, and it still wouldn't be enough to express how much. You are everything. Everything!”

He could feel her breath on his chin, could see her lips parted; their noses were touching, mouths separated by mere centimeters. He closed the distance between them, kissing her delicately at first, but then more fervently as she responded in kind, each kiss elevated to a new tier of passion, their breathlessness turning into hums and moans of desperation. A headiness washed over him and he found himself stumbling forward as she backed up, her arms clutching his shoulders as he pushed her against the door.

Her mouth broke free as she gasped for air, the Doctor's lips moving to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone; his hands roamed beneath the hem of her shirt, grazing bare skin, the contact coursing through him like an electric shock. He pushed against her with a sigh and she arched into him.

“Rose...” he said huskily, “is this... I mean...”

“God yes,” she moaned, sliding her hands down to frantically disentangle his belt. Her fingers grazed his sensitive nerves when she released the button of his trousers, eliciting a gasp of pleasure as he hungrily thrust against her, face buried in the warmth of her neck.

He suddenly stepped back, gasping for air, hands tented over his forehead as he tried to gain control. “Wait,” he said breathlessly.

She was still leaning against the door, breathing heavily. “Doctor..?”

“I can't do this,” he gasped.

Her breath hitched. “Wh... what?”

“I can't make proper love to you up against the door of your parents' cellar!”

Rose gaped at him, then burst out laughing.

“What?” he said defensively.

“You looked so serious,” she managed through giggles. “I thought... for a second, I thought you wanted to stop!”

His eyebrows shot up. “What? No!”

She grinned saucily. “Come on, then. I still have my own room here, you know.” She threw the door open and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him behind her.

They ran up the staircase, passing what felt like an endless row of rooms before they finally reached Rose's, bursting through the door. The Doctor turned the lock, then took Rose in his arms again, lifting off her sweater and unclasping her bra as she helped him off with his jacket and t-shirt.

He lowered her reverently onto the bed, kissing her mouth once more before moving down her jaw, her neck—tickling that one spot she really loved with his tongue—further aroused by the moan and the shiver that ran through her body at the sensation. She groped blindly for his zipper and shucked him free of his trousers and pants as his fingers reached beneath her skirt and helped her out of her knickers. She hooked a thigh around his backside, giving him guidance as he entered, slowly at first, enjoying the mere sensation of being sheathed inside her. He rocked into her, pleasure mounting at the sounds she made. She was so beautiful, flushed and glistening, mouth grimacing in bliss with every thrust as he drove her to ecstacy, whispering Gallifreyan endearments to her, riding the tidal wave of his own climax with hers. They gasped for air in the afterglow, every molecule tingling with the euphoric buzz of waning pleasure.

As they lay together under the sheets, the sheen of perspiration still gracing their skin, Rose grew restless, clenching and unclenching her jaw, opening her mouth, then closing it again... He could sense she was holding something back.

“What is it, Rose?” the Doctor asked gently.

There was a pause before she finally spoke, her hesitant voice a husky whisper. “Why did you leave?”

“He left, Rose.” The Doctor's voice was stony with frustration and defensiveness.

“But you're him...”

“Rose... We're the same. But we're also different.”

“How?”

“I stayed. And even though he didn't offer a choice, I'd have chosen that. To stay. That's what I wanted. That's what matters, isn't it?”

“But... how do I... you know, reconcile that? You're him, but you're not him. You stayed, but he left. How can I separate you and still think of you as the same man?”

“We were the same, even at the moment that the metacrisis took place. But in that moment, the moment our mind multiplied and settled into two separate bodies, that's when things changed. Because we began having separate experiences, we began turning into different people.”

“So you're not the same.”

“You can't say we're not the same. ...But you can say we're different.”

Silence spread between them, tension building.

“Rose... we made different choices, but those choices were driven by the same basic thing.”

“What thing?” She couldn't hide the tremble in her voice.

“Fear.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fear of what?”

“For him, it was the fear of the inevitable. The fear, the dread, of losing you again. Of having to—” His voice cracked, and he went silent, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “...Of having to eventually carry on without you. Of experiencing that loss again. A loss that almost broke him. Me. Us.”

She propped herself up to look him in the eye. He could see fresh tear tracks on her rosy cheeks. “And what were you afraid of?”

“Of missing even one single moment with you.” The wrinkles in his forehead deepened woefully. “Rose, I thought you were gone forever, I...”

She gave into her tears then, and he pulled her close, swallowing thickly as his own tears coursed down.

“The other you,” she said at length. “He'll never see me again. I'll never see that part of you again. He's gone on, living a different life, on his own.”

“He's got Donna.”

“But he hasn't got me.”

The Doctor silently traced circles on her arm.

“Do you really love me, Doctor?” she said, barely above a whisper.

He kissed the top of her head tenderly. “More than anything.”

“Do you really want to stay? I don't think I could bear it if you left.”

“Rose, I'm not going anywhere.”

 

\--------

 

“Mallory! Mallory! Wake up!”

The Doctor knelt beside the prone man and rolled him onto his back, checking his pulse. Normal. He could see he was breathing. It looked like he'd hit his head when he fell; a nasty bruise was forming just above his ear, and his hair was matted with blood, which had clearly wept from where his skin had split on impact.

“Mallory! Mallory!” He shook the Frenchman's shoulders, trying to rouse him without success. He leaned back on his heels with a shaky sigh and washed a hand down his face in agitation, then pulled the sonic out of his back pocket and scanned him, relieved to see his vitals were all stable. He was just in a very deep sleep.

A psychic coma.

The Doctor could wake him, but he'd have to use telepathy to do it. His stomach churned at the thought.

“Mallory! Mallory, wake up!” He shook the man roughly, almost violently, without result. He jumped to his feet with a growl of frustration, walking a brisk pace across the room and back again, staring down at the sleeping man. 

He still hadn't tried to use telepathy on a human since his withdrawal symptoms had begun. The human mind was far more complex than an insect's or rodent's, but he didn't know if that would make it more durable.

“God help me,” he muttered hoarsely.

After a deep, shuddering breath, the Doctor knelt again, placing a shaky hand on Mallory's temple and closing his eyes, allowing himself to make the connection.

In an instant, Mallory's mind tore open like wet newspaper, and the Doctor could feel the hunger in his own mind bubble into a frenzy, dragging him in through the ragged hole against his will. He snatched his hand away and stumbled back, pushing himself away from Mallory in panic. His fingers were numb and there was a halo around his field of vision, his mind burning in agony at the sudden separation. He groaned in pain, clutching his head, the pounding and pressure mounting to almost unbearable levels, his vision shimmering with every pulse.

Mallory sat up abruptly, sucking in a deep, gasping breath, eyes bulging wide, arms reaching out, trembling. 

“Whoa!” the Doctor cried, forgetting his own discomfort and scrambling forward, grabbing Mallory by the shoulders as he was thrown into a coughing fit.

“Easy there, big fella,” the Doctor rasped, his voice sounding hollow and far away, muffled further by a high pitched humming in his ears, which was mercifully beginning to fade. He choked down a lump in his throat, relief flooding through him, almost making him forget his own pain. For a moment he'd feared the worst, his memory shifting unbidden to that collection of dead creatures he'd destroyed with his psychically starved mind.

“Doctor?” Mallory said in ragged, grimacing in pain and putting a hand to his head. “Oh god... what happened?”

“Stay there,” the Doctor said, rising and stumbling over to the bar as a wave of dizziness overtook him.

“Doctor, are you alright?”

“I'm fine, just give me a minute.” The Doctor guided himself around the bar and to the sink, filling a glass with water. He dampened a flannel from the linen drawer, and folded a second flannel around a handful of ice from the freezer. His equilibrium was stabilizing now, and he made his way back to Mallory more easily, though still much slower than his usual manic pace. He handed the glass to Mallory, who drank greedily as the Doctor gently dabbed at the cut on his head. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I'm not sure...” Mallory said, frowning, his breath still husky with effort.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so...”

The Doctor helped him up and lent him the support of his arm as he guided the Frenchman's trembling form to the couch, easing him gently down on the cushions and handing him the ice wrap.

“Merci,” Mallory rasped, leaning back against the cushions weakly, breathing heavily from the exertion as he applied the ice to his temple. “Well, Doctor, here we are again, only this time it's me with the headache.” He chuckled, voice husky and faint.

“What do you remember?”

Mallory furrowed his brow as he tried to gather up the scattered bits of memory inside his head. “I... I remember Rose... and Helen.” He looked up at the Doctor. “They came to my door. I think... I think... Rose, she wanted to use my telephone.” He swallowed loudly.

The Doctor hunched down to eye level, gripping Mallory's shoulder. “Did she? Did she make the call?”

His stare was so intense that Mallory had to glance away, though he nodded. “Yes, she did. She... made a call, and Helen... Helen sat here with me.”

The Doctor let out a sigh of relief as he straightened, ruffling his hair. “Do you remember anything they said?”

“Helen... she...” Mallory closed his eyes tight, shaking his head. “I... I can't remember.”

“Rose, on the phone, did she say anything about Aliens? Or Torchwood? Did she mention Torchwood?”

Mallory shook his head. “I didn't hear. Helen, she was talking to me. Aliens, she said. There were aliens. But it can't be real... can it?”

The Doctor sighed grimly. “All too real.”

Mallory shook his head again. “It's all a bit fuzzy. If I wasn't so tired...” His eyes widened suddenly. “Charles. I remember Charles! He was there... He took them. He...”

“It wasn't Charles. Not really.” The Doctor sighed. “Listen, I can't stay, I've got to go help them. Try to rest.”

“No, I'm coming with you, Doctor,” Mallory tried to push himself up off the couch, but after a wobble, he started to fall. The Doctor caught him under his arm and eased him back down onto the cushions.

“Mallory, you're in no state. Stay here, take care of that head of yours.”

“But Charles...”

“I'll find him. I'll help him, I promise you!”

“But you're alone, you have no one...”

“Nonsense! You're with me in spirit! Believe it or not, that counts for something.”

The Frenchman closed his eyes and nodded. “Please... please help my husband.”

“You have my word.”

“And Doctor... be careful.”

“Oh, don't worry, Mallory. Safety's my middle name!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION READERS!
> 
> In chapters 17-20, I have made some revisions to this story. If you were caught up before January 13, 2018, read the explanation below. If you read this after that date, you are reading the updated version of the story, and may disregard this post.  
> After writing some of what I was working on with the subplot involving The Doctor and Rose's friends that they met on board (Mallory, Felicity, Peter, Sarah, and some new OC's), I decided it was weighing the story down and hindering the momentum leading up to the climax of the main plot. I have therefore cut this subplot from the story entirely. 
> 
> As of now, when the Doctor awakens Mallory from his psychic coma, Mallory is too weak to accompany him. All this has resulted in some minor revisions, and a bit of reshuffling in order to reorganize the chapters.
> 
> If you want the full effect, I suggest re-reading chapters 17-20, but I don't believe there have been enough changes for this to be absolutely necessary. You might like to read in order to see what things have been reshuffled, but materially, the main plot hasn't changed. 
> 
> What you need to know is that everything involving Mallory and company beyond chapter 17 has been cut. Thanks!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION READERS!
> 
> In chapters 17-20, I have made some revisions to this story. If you were caught up before January 13, 2018, read the explanation below. If you read this after that date, you are reading the updated version of the story, and may disregard this post.  
> After writing some of what I was working on with the subplot involving The Doctor and Rose's friends that they met on board (Mallory, Felicity, Peter, Sarah, and some new OC's), I decided it was weighing the story down and hindering the momentum leading up to the climax of the main plot. I have therefore cut this subplot from the story entirely. 
> 
> As of now, when the Doctor awakens Mallory from his psychic coma, Mallory is too weak to accompany him. All this has resulted in some minor revisions, and a bit of reshuffling in order to reorganize the chapters.
> 
> If you want the full effect, I suggest re-reading chapters 17-20, but I don't believe there have been enough changes for this to be absolutely necessary. You might like to read in order to see what things have been reshuffled, but materially, the main plot hasn't changed. 
> 
> What you need to know is that everything involving Mallory and company beyond chapter 17 has been cut. Thanks!

Rose was thrust forcefully into what she could only assume was the bridge, judging by the array of computers, touchscreens, and brightly colored holographic charts, a few topographical maps spinning in midair near the center of the cold steel room. The massive windows had their storm shutters drawn, and the entire room was lit only by the computer screens, except for one small light that was recessed in the wall behind the helm. It backlit none other than Captain Levy himself, who was perched woodenly on the edge of his command chair, flanked by half a dozen uniformed guards.

“Oi!” she jerked her arms, trying to free them from her captor's grip. “Stop squeezing my arms so tight!”

“I'll stop squeezin' if you stop squirmin',” the guard replied roughly. He seemed to be as annoyed with her as she was with him.

The other guard entered after them, pushing Helen forward so forcefully that she stumbled to the floor with an oof. She looked up and locked eyes with Scott Crowder, her face draining of color as a little croak escaped her throat. Rose looked at her, then followed her line of vision, seeing Scott for herself, his slumping form tied to a chair in a darkened corner of the room. His face was bruised and bloodied almost beyond recognition, and his expression spoke of utter distress when he realized Helen had been captured.

“Scott!” she scrambled to her feet, pulling away from the guard as she ran to him, dropping to her knees and wrapping him in a desperate embrace. Her guard started after her, but the Captain stayed him with a subtle gesture.

“Helen... what are you doing here?” Scott asked woefully.

Tears coursed down Helen's cheeks as she reached to caress his face, but stopped short when she didn't know where she could touch him without causing him pain. “Oh god, Scott... love, your poor face...”

Rose shot an angry glare at the Captain, eyes hot with fury and disgust, but she clamped her teeth against the urge to start screaming at him.

Helen looked at her father imploringly, lips trembling as more tears fell, her face a picture of disbelief and sadness. “Daddy... Why...?”

“He's not your dad, Helen,” Rose reminded her evenly, eyes fixed on the Captain.

“Very perceptive!” the Captain hissed with a ragged chuckle. His voice was inhuman; more like wet gravel and mud being raked into a pile.

“Is it completely true though?” Rose said, trying to keep her voice neutral. “Captain Levy... is he still in there somewhere?”

“The last vestiges of his consciousness have submitted. He put up an impressive fight! But it doesn't matter. I possess control of this body now, and this ship.” His eyes darkened. “And you.”

Rose blanched, shivering despite herself. Her expression and voice remained even, however, as she allowed her training to kick in. “What do you want me for? You've got this whole ship. The body of a powerful man. I'm just a passenger.”

“Rose Tyler... you and I both know you're far more than that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She kept her tone neutral, guiding the conversation as well as she could.

“You know exactly what I mean. You're far more than Rose Tyler, the little child from the Powell Estate. Or the shop girl from another world. The companion. The time traveller. Oh yes, far more than Pete and Jackie Tyler's heiress. Far more than a soldier. Or... a lover.” He licked his lips. “Far more. Far, far more.”

She felt her stomach do a sick little sommersault. “And what about you? You're obviously far more than Captain James Levy.”

The Captain wheezed out a hissing laugh. “Clever one, oh yes. Clever.”

“Really, though. You seem to know so much about me. How 'bout sharing something about the real you? What's your name?”

“I have no name.”

“A designation, then?”

“Designation R57-Tam.”

“All right, Tam—can I call you Tam? Who are you?”

The Captain chuckled gratingly. “I think you know exactly who I am, Rose Tyler.”

She bit her bottom lip, struggling to control the conversation. “Have you got friends with you? Or maybe... family?”

“Fear not, Rose Tyler. I intend to share more with you. Much more, in due time.”

Rose felt a chill course through her. She swallowed down a dry throat. “Why not just talk to me now, we're both here, and neither of us seem to be particularly busy.”

Even as she spoke, a third guard entered the room. “Captain, the panic mill is accelerating.”

“Excellent.”

Rose felt the color drain from her face. “Panic mill? What... what's a panic mill?”

The Captain addressed the guard holding onto Rose. “Bind her here, then ready the holding crew. It won't be long now.”

“What about the other girl, sir?”

“Bring her to me. I'm feeling... what is it you humans say? A bit peckish.” He laughed gratingly.

As one guard gathered Helen up off the floor and pulled her slumping form to the Captain, the other shoved Rose viciously towards Scott, thrusting her into a seat beside him and binding her wrists and ankles, with a third binding around her middle, securing her to the chair. With a final glare of disgust, which mutated into a twisted grin, he turned and left the room. 

Helen was thrown to the floor at her father's feet with a sharp gasp of pain as her chin hit the hard floor.

“No!” Scott cried in distress, and Rose felt her chest tighten in anger once again.

“Leave her alone!” she shouted furiously, pulling at her bindings without result.

Ignoring Rose entirely, the Captain leaned forward in his chair as Helen pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she stared into his black eyes imploringly. “Father... please...” she wept. “I know you're in there. Help us. Help me, please!” she sobbed. “Fight back!”

“There's no fight left in him,” the Captain rasped coldly, closing his eyes. Helen's face crumpled in terror, and she began to scream.

“Helen!” Scott's voice cracked at the effort. “What is he doing to her?!”

“He's frightening her,” Rose replied somberly. “It's how he feeds.”

“What?” he croaked.

“There's a creature controlling him. It feeds on fear through hallucinations. Whatever it is she's seeing, it's...” Rose closed her eyes as her stomach churned at the memory of her own terror that afternoon when she'd seen the ghost from her childhood. She couldn't stop a tear from falling, swallowing against the lump in her throat as she turned her gaze towards Scott. “She's seeing the thing she fears most. That's how they feed. They show you the things you're afraid of and then absorb the aura of fear.”

Helen suddenly stopped screaming, collapsing on the floor in a fit of moans and sobbing coughs. The Captain drew in a long, slow breath—deeper than Rose would have thought possible—before opening his eyes, which were now glowing a faint green. He smiled contentedly. “Ahh... delicious. Now,” he addressed the guard. “Tie her with the rest and join the others.”

Rose bit her lip, fighting back more tears as Helen was dragged to a chair beside her and tied up in the same fashion as Rose. She could hear Helen's quiet weeping, and the poor woman's body was still shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Helen, I'm so sorry,” she said softly. “Please, understand, it wasn't real. It was a hallicination. Whatever you saw, it didn't really happen. Me and Scott, we couldn't see it.”

Helen nodded tightly, sucking in her bottom lip as she let out a shuddering breath. Scott, situated on Rose's other side, leaned as close as he could towards Helen, wincing in pain as his bindings pulled at his tender, bruised skin. “Helen. Helen, love, I'm here. I... I'm so sorry.” His voice broke.

“Scott, don't.”

“You wouldn't be here if I hadn't asked you. I didn't know... it's my fault...”

“Stop, please,” she said huskily. “Even if I'd known, I'd have come anyway.”

There was a pause before Scott nodded. “I know.”

“Scott,” Rose said. Her eyes were staring straight ahead.

Scott drew his head back to look at Rose. “What is it?”

“Do you know how to read those charts and stuff?”

He glanced at the various holographic images floating above their stations. “Which one?”

“That topographical one nearest us.”

“Well, the green area indicates land. Iceland. The blue grid is water, and the blinking red dot—that's the Annabel Lee.”

“And what about distance? How close is the Annabel Lee to land?”

“We could probably see Iceland from here. But we're traveling alongside it, so we still won't reach port for another...” he looked towards the helm. “Looks like, six hours maybe?”

Her eyes bulged. “Six?”

“Yes, six. If the pit log is to be believed.”

“Oh my god...” she whispered with a gasp if dismay. “That's what I was afraid of. If that chart's to be believed, we are preposterously ahead of schedule. They must have sped up the ship!”

“Why is that bad? If we reach land, we can get help from the local authorities!” Scott said.

“No, you don't understand. These creatures, they're small—tiny. They will be impossible to control. Our best hope is to contain them before we reach land! Otherwise, who knows where they'll end up!”

“Oh, shit,” Scott muttered.

“Your words,” Rose said. “Oh, shit!” she added as the Captain stood up and started walking towards them.

“And now, Rose Tyler,” he said, his voice still full of rocks and sludge. “If my memory serves me, you seemed to have a companion with you.”

-

Ever since making the psychic connection with Mallory Auclair, things weren't right with the Doctor. The halo in his vision had receded some, but it still hadn't gone away completely, and little bursts of gold shimmered brighter around his peripheral vision in time with his own pulse. The buzzing in his ears had lessened, but they were still ringing, and everything else felt muffled and dull, the sensation clouding his thoughts and adding heaviness to his limbs. He even found himself using the wall to ground himself from time to time. 

_That can't be good._

He ran as quickly as he could manage down the hallway until he reached a sort of foyer, walls lined with benches and artificial foliage. There was an information kiosk in the center of the room, and he whipped out his sonic screwdriver, adjusting the settings and applying it to the computer, bringing up a detailed schematic of the ship with staff-only areas highlighted.

“Aha!” He discovered a quick, relatively straight route to the bridge through a staff-only deck. “Don't worry, Rose. I'm coming,” he muttered as he ran towards the lifts. He slammed the down button and slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His head was pounding, almost vibrating with pressure, the sharp stabs of pain coming in regular succession now, lancing through his temples mercilessly. He was getting worse. Much worse.

_What is happening to me?_

He swallowed thickly and wiped beads of sweat from his upper lip, even as more sweat dripped down his forehead. Glancing down at his t-shirt, and noticed for the first time that he was soaked in sweat, and his hands were shaking. A wave of nausea washed over him and he swallowed it down sourly.

The lift dinged, and as the doors slid open, the Doctor found himself face to face with a pair of very large security guards.

“Oh, hello. I'm the Doctor.”

“We know,” said the one on the right.

The Doctor nodded slowly, pushing himself away from the wall to stand up straight, facing them properly. “Good... good... saves us the trouble of long introductions.”

“Come with us.”

“Oh, well, if you insist. Take me to your leader!” He grinned, giving his eyebrows a pop. “Never expected to say that again.”

The guards grabbed him and pulled him into the lift, one of them turning a key on the control pad and hitting a restricted button. The doors slid shut and lift began to move.

“So!” the Doctor said as the guards bound his wrists behind him. “Fancy telling me where we're going?”

“No.” It was the same guard who had spoken before.

He shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “Ah. Just a nice evening stroll then?”

“Shut up.”

The Doctor tried to catch the eye of the second guard. “Well, your mate's in a right sour mood. How 'bout you tell me?” He leaned closer. “I'll keep it a secret, I promise.”

The first guard shoved him roughly in the back. “Stop talking!” The Doctor stumbled forward with an _oof_ , but managed to catch himself on the cold steel wall of the lift with his left shoulder, absorbing the brunt of the impact with his arm. The second guard glared at him in irritation, then averted his gaze.

The Doctor pushed himself back into a standing position and studied them both, brows furrowed thoughtfully as he ran his tongue across the back of his teeth. “Are you even still human in there?” he said, voice low but taut. “Any free will? Or are you just following daddy's orders?”

The first guard shoved him forcefully against the wall of the elevator. “I said shut up!”

The Doctor, grunted, cringing in pain, the pressure in his head suddenly hot as needles of sharp pain stabbed through his temples.

One of the guard's radios rasped into life. “We're about to move Prisoner Zero. X42-Sek, have you acquired the target? Over.”

“Target acquired,” the first guard replied.

“Meet us on deck one, starboard side, stairwell thirteen, over.”

“Roger.”

The Doctor raised his brows, eyes widening as his jaw went slack. “Prisoner Zero. Who's Prisoner Zero?”

The first guard fiercely grabbed the Doctor by the collar and shoved him brutally against the wall again. “What is it about shut up that you don't understand?!”

The Doctor felt the wind knocked out of him, and he coughed and gasped for breath, his head spinning, the vibrating pressure accelerating to an almost unbearable level. His legs shook beneath him, but he managed to stay upright, leaning against the wall of the lift and furiously lamenting his weakened state. He considered speaking again, but this time thought better of it.

The lift doors slid opened, and they hastily marched him down a darkened hallway. His head was swimming, the halo around his vision increasing in intensity once again as a wave of nausea struck. He stumbled, and the guard on the right hooked an arm under his shoulder, hoisting him up and prodding him forward again.

They reached an outer door and unlocked it with a key card, then shoved him outside. The cold air slammed into him, freezing his skin through his sweat soaked t-shirt. _Great time to forget your coat, dummy._ He shivered violently, breath catching in his throat before he elicited a gasp of dismay. “Blimey, coulda warned me it was gonna be this cold. Don't suppose one of you blokes has Time Lord technology and a fur lined parka in your trouser pockets?”

The left guard twisted his arm tighter until it hurt. “Shut... Up!”

-

The Captain and his men pulled on wool hats and scarves, wrapping up in thick winter peacoats and threading their fingers into leather gloves. Three guards approached the prisoners, bringing out knives to cut the bindings around their waists and ankles. Rose was pulled roughly to her feet, and she scowled at the guard, jerking her arm away without success. “Oi! No need to twist my arm off!” The guard pointedly ignored her, squeezing his fingers tightly around her flesh. She gritted her teeth against the pain.

“Silence!” The Captain hissed, head bowed in deep concentration. “The Panic Mill is ready. I can feel it.” He glanced at the prisoners, then at his men. “Put a second guard on Rose Tyler. Her presence is paramount.”

Rose's free arm was taken by another guard, this one's grip still firm, but mercifully painless. She glanced at Helen and Scott. Helen's face was pale and somber, but she seemed to have recovered her strength. Their eyes met, and Helen put on a brave face, her jaw set resolutely. Rose smiled grimly and nodded, glancing at Scott as they pulled him out of his chair. He was still weak, practically leaning on his guard for support, but he was alert. Rose bit her lip, then mouthed, you okay? He nodded, and even offered a slight smile. I suppose he's been through worse.

They were ushered through a side door, then down the hall to a lift, which carried them to a lower deck. The doors slid open with a ding, revealing a darkened hallway rolled out before them, the wall's smooth, reflective panels lit only by a handful of dim baseboard lights. After marching through the darkness for several minutes and a handful of turns, they came to a security door, which the front guard opened with a key card, leading them all out onto the open deck. The Captain and his guards came behind.

As soon as they stepped outside, a blast of cold air hit Rose like a slap in the face, and she began shivering immediately, her coat absurdly insufficient for such cold temperatures. But at least she and Helen had coats. Scott wasn't attired for the cold at all, and he was visibly shivering as they walked along the deck, which seemed to be a staff-only area, and was currently empty of people. Rose studied her environment, desperately searching for an opportunity for escape, but coming up empty handed. It was nothing but hard floors, railings, and cold, cold wind. They pressed on hastily, passing several perpendicular hallways, and plenty of scattered doors, some labeled with numbers, all of them requiring a security card.

Then she saw him. The Doctor. Flanked by two guards, wrists bound like the rest of them. Her heart sank, and she bit her tongue against tears, doing her best to swallow the lump in her throat. He was shivering in the cold, and she gritted her teeth in dismay at the sight of him in nothing but a damp t-shirt, trousers, and plimsolls. He had apparently taken off the hoodie and plaid at some point. His face was pale, and despite the cold, he was glistening with perspiration. There were dark circles forming under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped weakly. Her breath hitched. Something was wrong with him. More than just the cold.

“Rose!” the Doctor said, his brows curled with worry. “Are you all right?” He tried to pull away, but the guards held him firmly.

“Right as rain, Doctor,” she replied, forcing a smile. “You?”

“Never better,” he said with a chill-induced sniffle, his mouth spreading into a grin that quickly faded, lips now pressed into a thin line of grim concentration and... _is that pain?_ Her breath faltered.

“Ah, the Doctor,” the Captain said raggedly, drawing out his name as he stepped forward. “I've learned many things about you, time traveler.”

The Doctor hunched further against the cold, his teeth beginning to chatter. “Ah! My reputation precedes me! F-fantastic. I only hope it's the g-good bits and not... well...” He tilted his head dismissively, glancing at Rose again, eyes begging for reassurance. She smiled and nodded slightly, mouthing I'm okay and hoping to god that would put him at ease.

“Oh yes, it is quite the reputation indeed,” the Captain replied. “Very impressive. Breaking through the unbreakable wall between worlds.” He glanced at Rose. “Both of you.”

“What d-do you mean, the wall between w-worlds?” He gave Rose another glance, his shivering growing more pronounced as the harsh winds rapidly leeched the warmth from his body.

“You know very well what I mean, Doctor,” the Captain said calmly. “Yourself, and Rose Tyler... how remarkable you are. Both of you. Indeed, even I am impressed by the perseverance—the sheer will you have, to stay together, to... survive.”

The Doctor frowned and rolled his eyes. “Everyone has the w-will to survive! Little thing c-called instinct. D-doesn't make us sp-pecial, just makes us human. Well. M-mostly,” he chuckled.

“Not like you. You... together, you are unstoppable.” The faint glow in the Captain's eyes intensified briefly as his expression darkened.

“Oh, w-well, we always d-did make a good t-team,” the Doctor said. “Sh-shiver and Shake.” He shuddered severely, and she could see the muscles in his arms spasm for warmth. “Looks like I'm shiver this time,” he quipped, smiling pathetically at Rose.

“Whatever you may choose to call yourselves—”

“Don't forget Hope and Glory,” Rose said, trying to cover her worry with a smile.

“Silence!” the Captain hissed. “Your alliance cannot be allowed to continue!”

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. “I b-beg your pardon?”

“Your partnership. Your... unity.”

“What?” the Doctor murmured, mouth agape, looking at Rose in horror. “No...” She stared back, her face a white mask of shock and fear, and his eyes went wide with sudden dread.

“It must be severed.”

“No! No, wait! Please!” he cried, struggling fiercely against the two men holding him.

“And unfortunately for you,” the Captain replied, ignoring the Doctor's pleas, “I only need Rose Tyler.”

“No! Doctor!” Rose cried in sudden panic, jerking against her bonds, but the guards held on tighter, digging their fingers into her arms so tight she could feel the pressure in her bones.

“Doctor...” the Captain hissed, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Do you hear that?”

The wind carried with it the sound of a church bell, clanging somberly in the darkness, its toll without rhythm, frenetic and random. “If you could only see it, Doctor. A lonely church on the cliff. So comparatively small in the vast cruelty of its surroundings. I've sailed by it many times on my voyages these past few years. Centuries old, yet still it withstands the crushing elements, year, after year, after year, even when all civilization around it crumbled away ages ago. The wind still faithfully rings the bell, proclaiming its identity as a true survivor.” His brow lowered, further darkening his deepset eyes.

“What are you g-getting at?” The Doctor's mouth was a grim line, eyes alight with fury, the muscles in his cheeks flexing with dangerous intensity.

“There's an old superstition, Doctor. That if you hear the bell toll at sea, someone will die. And I have the perfect candidate.” The Captain turned his attention to the Doctor's guards. “Throw him in the drink.”

“No!” Rose screamed, pulling against the guards so hard she could feel her skin tearing. “Doctor! No! Stop! Please, Captain! Please!” Her arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets as she fought, body and legs flying forward, dragging the guards behind her. A third guard grabbed her around the waist, and a fourth grabbed her legs as she flailed in a panic.

“Rose!” the Doctor dug his heels in, trying desperately to free himself. “Stop! Wait! No! Rose, it'll be okay! I love you! Don't give up! Don't ever give up!”

The two huge guards lifted the Doctor's struggling form without ceremony and threw him over the railing. The entire group went silent, Rose choking on her own breath, staring at the black wall of night sky in horror and disbelief. The Doctor didn't say a word, but after a moment, she could hear the splash as he hit the water.

“No...” she whimpered. “No. No, it was a hallucination. He wasn't there! It wasn't real! Doctor!”

“Rose... Rose, I saw him,” Helen choked tearfully.


	19. Part 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no they didn't...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION READERS!
> 
> In chapters 17-20, I have made some revisions to this story. If you were caught up before January 13, 2018, read the explanation below. If you read this after that date, you are reading the updated version of the story, and may disregard this post.  
> After writing some of what I was working on with the subplot involving The Doctor and Rose's friends that they met on board (Mallory, Felicity, Peter, Sarah, and some new OC's), I decided it was weighing the story down and hindering the momentum leading up to the climax of the main plot. I have therefore cut this subplot from the story entirely. 
> 
> As of now, when the Doctor awakens Mallory from his psychic coma, Mallory is too weak to accompany him. All this has resulted in some minor revisions, and a bit of reshuffling in order to reorganize the chapters.
> 
> If you want the full effect, I suggest re-reading chapters 17-20, but I don't believe there have been enough changes for this to be absolutely necessary. You might like to read in order to see what things have been reshuffled, but materially, the main plot hasn't changed. 
> 
> What you need to know is that everything involving Mallory and company beyond chapter 17 has been cut. Thanks!

The first thing The Doctor noticed was that the impact wasn't nearly as hard as he'd expected it to be, considering the height of the deck. But that thought was immediately overtaken by the excruciating cold, which clawed so fiercely at his bones that they almost felt brittle. The pain in his head nearly shattered him as the halo around his vision grew brighter than ever before. Or maybe it just seemed that way because of how profoundly dark it was. The churning water, stirred up by the ship as it blazed past, tumbled him relentlessly, disorienting him as the powerful undertow spun him down. His lungs screamed for air, but the roiling waters kept pushing him deeper, rolling him over and over until he felt like his atoms were going to fly apart.

Then the fury of the water began to lessen. It was a relief and a terror, knowing that the only reason for that was the fact that the ship was sailing on, leaving him behind in the deep, dark, icy sea.

Rose.

He kicked his legs furiously, clawing at the water with every ounce of his strength until he finally broke the surface, coughing and spluttering uncontrollably, and tossing hair out of his eyes. He spun in the water until he saw it. The light from the cruise ship already looked distant as the waves rocked and swelled, dragging him further away from her.

Rose!

In desperation, he launched after her, kicking and paddling with relentless ferocity, but he was no match for the current, or the speed of the ship as it spirited her away. She was already just a speck of light in the distance; the one reprieve from the consuming blackness all around him. He swam faster, kicking as hard as he could, fighting the inevitable as the cold weighed him down more and more with each passing minute.

The Doctor's heart sank further into despair. His limbs felt like heavy bricks, and he was becoming less and less able to control his movements as the cold ravaged his system. He kicked his legs furiously, each movement feeling like he was dragging the weight of a car. His thoughts gradually shifted from Rose to his own instinctual need to survive. It took every ounce of cognitive faculty simply to coax his arms to tread water, but the movements became more spastic and clumsy as his body succumbed to the cold. He could barely feel his legs at all anymore, and his head was slipping lower and lower into the water, until only his face was above, sucking desperately for air as water splashed over him for the last time, and he sank beneath the waves.

Exhausted, he finally stopped kicking, if only to rest for a moment. Yes, just a moment. I just need a moment of rest. Just a moment, Rose. That's all.

He curled up into the fetal position, a reflex more than anything, as if his body were trying to wrap itself up to stay warm. His mind wandered, unconstrained, as he lost the capacity to focus and think proactively. Images of Rose floated before him in the dark. That cheeky look she would get; those half-lidded eyes, tongue in teeth as she teased him in some fashion; laughing on the TARDIS as he bounced around the console like a caffeinated puppy. Their first kiss; soft; tentative; full of hope and desire and fear and despiration, all threatening to tear him apart if she rejected him. His beautiful, relentless Rose Tyler, grinning and bumping into his shoulder playfully. It felt so real...

The Doctor slowly began to realize that he was being bumped in the shoulder, but it wasn't by Rose.

It was something gentle, but not shy. It nudged the Doctor's shoulder again, then his arm, then hand, bringing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. It prodded him in the crook of his neck and shoulder, insistent, but somehow soothing. He could feel himself growing more relaxed, and he noticed the cold less, his mind now fixating on the movement of the water as it swirled him around in gentle eddies.

The thing prodded him again, chirping at him, nuzzling him almost affectionately. It was rather large, probably at least twice his size, smooth and warm to the touch. It rubbed up against him, rousing him further as it prodded and shimmied itself under his arm, and he instinctively rubbed a hand against it. As he did so, he felt some part of the creature's back sticking out, perpendicular to its body, curved and smooth. The creature nudged him again, coaxing, guiding, until he rolled over and grabbed onto the protrusion, body flush with the creature's as it began to swim; slowly at first, then increasing speed through the water as it dove deeper.

His lungs didn't crave air, and the depth of the water wasn't increasing the pressure around his body. He felt lighter than air, like he was flying through space, untethered by gravity, floating and burning bright and warm.

Well, warm anyway. The brightness seemed to be coming from something else. Something deep in the black abyss, appearing at first as a little speck, then growing larger and larger as they approached. It was massive, twisted and skeletal in places, like a giant coral floating free, glowing neon blue and pink in the darkness of the water. The creature swam straight towards it at rapid speed, and as it did so, a hatch in the structure opened, allowing them entrance, just as the Doctor drifted away into unconsciousness.

-

Rose stumbled forward as she was prodded in the back, her steps dragging, eyes still staring past the railing in shock and disbelief. He didn't really fall. He's still here somehow. He's caught on to something, he's coming back. He'll be back. Doctor, you'll come back. Come back. Please...

The guards opened a door and shoved them through, Rose stumbling sideways and straining to see where the Doctor had gone over the side, fighting against the pull of the guards, until the door closed with a clang, blocking the deck from view. Her breath hitched and tears streamed down her face. Doctor...

“Rose,” Helen said softly. “I'm so sorry...”

Rose swallowed thickly, compressing her lips against the urge to sob. “He'll be okay.”

“Rose...” Helen's voice was full of pity and confusion. “Rose, he's gone. We all saw him. He's gone.”

“No. He'll come back.” Rose's stare bore into Helen fiercely. “You don't know him like I do. He'll come back. He'll find a way, he always does.”

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, brow etched with sympathy. Rose could tell she didn't believe her. Somehow that only bolstered her resolve. The Doctor would come back. He was okay, and he'd come back.

The prisoners were shoved and prodded down a darkened stairwell that spiraled into what seemed like an impossible depth. She half expected them to start splashing through water, but the stairs finally terminated in a small rectangular landing of metal grate. There was a locked door, which the guards opened, and the prisoners found themselves herded into a room lit by a harsh red light. It was full of noise and heat and pressure, equipment working at a furious pace, computers blinking and beeping, giant pistons hissing with loud insistence as they pumped up and down. Steam rose from a massive engine in the center of everything. It was being sprayed with water continually as it worked at an impossible speed, the excess fluid being pumped out to prevent flooding. It looked like they were trying to keep the machine cool. So that's how we've gotten here so fast. They're working the engine to death. How much longer can this last? Mist from the hoses drifted down onto her face. It was ice cold. In a room so hot, it felt refreshing, but served as a painful reminder of the Doctor's current predicament. The lump in her throat returned as more tears fell. Please be all right.

The Captain pushed past the rest of the group and led them through the steam and noise, walking along the boundary of the massive engine, which seemed to go on forever. Rose's hair was already clinging to her neck and forehead as dots of moisture appeared on her skin. She heard a soft grunt and glanced behind her to see Scott grimacing, teeth gritted tight against the pain of his injuries.

“Slow down, you're going too fast!” Rose cried. “Please, he can't! Look at him!”

“Drag him if you must,” the Captain's graveled voice roared through the noise. “We can't delay!”

“You're the one who did this to him!” Helen cried furiously, but she was ignored. Scott slumped further, the guards half dragging him across the dampened floor grate. “My father would never do this,” she said in a lower voice, almost too quiet to hear. “He really is gone.”

“Don't lose hope, Helen,” Rose begged. “You heard the Captain. His consciousness was subdued, but that doesn't mean he's not still in there somewhere.” She leaned in closer, hoping the guards wouldn't hear. “We have to fight, with everything we've got. If we give up hope, we'll have nothing left, and they'll win. We can't let them win!”

The guard behind her shoved her hard, and she stumbled forward. “Oi!” she squeaked, but continued on in silence.

-

He was asleep. At least, he thought he was. Wakefulness didn't usually feel like this. Fluid. Weightless. Deliciously warm. He wanted to crawl deeper into the core of the warmth, wherever it was, and live there forever.

It was pitch dark, yet somehow he could see everything perfectly, each surface vibrating at an intangible frequency, sending signals to his brain and giving him awareness of his surroundings. He was floating in a massive pool of warm water in the center of a domed room. All around him, he could feel dolphins slowly swimming in a peaceful, rhythmic circle, each stroke of their tails concurrent with a faint, pleasant tingle that pulsed inside his head.

He eventually drew a sort of fuzzy, mud-minded conclusion that he was neither awake, nor asleep, but rather in some sort of psychic stasis. His mind felt like a boulder being supported by a single thread, and it took every ounce of concentration that his neurons were capable of just to keep his thoughts from slipping into a passive state. He was trying to remember something, desperately. Something important. What was it?

Pockets!

The sudden memory was like a defibrillator, his mind screaming into life as his breath caught in his throat.

Oi, watch it, Spaceman!

Donna?

“Doctor?”

Donna!

“Doctor, I'm here.”

Where? I can't see you.

Particles of light began to materialize before him, golden and dusty, like regeneration energy. The particles swirled together and coalesced into a shapeless mass, then stretched and grew into a familiar body, with long hair and ample curves. The golden light dissipated in a puff of dusty gold, and there she was, just as he remembered her, in her grays and blues, and brown leather, face framed by that mane of red hair. She was sitting at the edge of the pool, looking down at him as he floated in the water.

Donna!

“It's me, Doctor. And... not me. This isn't really my body.” She furrowed her brow and glanced sightlessly towards the ceiling. “God, I miss having my own body though...”

Donna, how are you here? It was beginning to seep into the Doctor's consciousness that he was speaking with his mind, not his voice.

She looked back down at him. “I've always been here, Spaceman. You know that.”

But...

“You're seeing an image. The dolphin creatures are projecting it for you. It's not such a strain on your mind this way.”

Why? I'm telepathic, it's not complicated for me.

“Maybe normally. But things are all kinda, you know, funny in your head right now.”

Is that why I can't speak?

Donna nodded. “S'alright though, 'cause technically, I'm inside your head, so I don't need to hear your big ol' voice.”

Well, it's... The Doctor swallowed against a lump in his throat. It's good to see you, Donna. Tears welled stubbornly in his eyes despite his efforts, and a few spilled over.

“It's good to see you, too, Doctor. Although I get an eye full every time you look in the mirror. God, you look in the mirror a lot, you know? I mean I knew you were vain, but...”

Oi!

Donna smirked in roguish delight, “It's so easy to wind you up.”

This prompted a grin and a voiceless laugh from the Doctor. Donna Noble! Blimey, I've been so worried about you.

“Things are very wrong here, Doctor,” Donna said, the smile fading. “Your mind. It's broken.”

The Doctor's mouth curled into a wry frown. Well, isn't that wizard.

“No, not really,” she said with a sigh. “Do you realize what happened when the Tardis left?”

The Doctor looked away, his lowered brow fraught with apprehension. Yeah... yeah, I haven't been well.

“It's more than that. You and the Tardis had a bond, a powerful bond for hundreds and hundreds of years! So when I say bond, I'm talking like a superglue bond. You know what happens when you superglue two pieces of paper together and then try to pull them apart? When she left, it ripped a hole right in the center of your mind, and it's been drawing everything in, like a black hole. Your mind, it's imploding. It's only a matter of time before your very consciousness gets pulled in, and then bugger all.”

The Doctor stared at her, mouth set in a grim line. And by bugger all, you mean...?

“We die, Doctor.”

Blimey...

Donna rolled her eyes. “Bit of an understatement.”

He glanced away, worrying his bottom lip.

Donna sighed. “But it's going to be okay. These dolphin creatures. They're not really dolphins, you know. They're aliens.” Her brow frumped. “It's always aliens with you.”

Yeah, amazing, always aliens with an alien...

“Anyway, they're called Delphine. They've been helping me hold your mind together. They have been since you got on board that ship.”

The Doctor frowned at the hint of a memory that he couldn't get a grip on, and it started to fade almost immediatetly. Something about... That ship... Rose... god, Rose! Where's Rose?!

Donna looked worried. “Don't you remember?”

The Doctor grimaced in concentration. My brain is so tired, I can't think straight.

“Let me find the memories for you.” Donna reached out to him, and a swirl of light and gold dust gently floated towards him. He felt the warmth and the glow shuffling around inside his mind—a strange, but not unpleasant sensation.

After a moment, images came flooding into his consciousness. The survellance videos, the Captain, Rose begging for mercy as the guards threw him overboard... He nearly began to panic, and tried to will his body to swim for the edge of the pool, but his arms and legs felt like lead.

Rose! We have to get back to her!

“We will, Doctor, I promise! But you're no help in your current condition. You have to let the Delphine help you.”

Why can't I move? He was beginning to feel almost frenzied as his body refused to respond to his instructions. Why can't I move!

“Calm down, Doctor!” Donna said, gentle but insistent. “You brain's all mixed up, remember? It's making your body not work properly.”

It was working fine before! Just then, he felt a calming psychic wave pulse into his mind, followed by that familiar ocean rhythm that had been soothing him periodically over the last few days. Realization sunk in. The Delphine... I've been hearing them. In my head, since being on the ship. I just thought they were dolphins, but... wait, hang on, random alien sea creatures just happened to come along? Quite the coincidence.

“No. They're here because of the Volchaski. They could sense them, you know, 'cause they're telepathic or whatever.”

Or whatever.

“Right, whatever. Anyway, they've been following them for the last few years, trying to strengthen the Captain's mind, but he was so weak, and the Volchaski... bloody powerful little worms!”

So that's how the Captain was able to fight against them as long as he did. Still... he's gone now. The Volchaski is in complete control of his consciousness... But if they can get inside someone's head, why haven't they tried a telepathic assault on the Volchaski themselves?

“Because they're peaceful. Their minds don't work that way. They can't bring about psychic attack, their abilities lie in healing and that. You know, supportive stuff. Not violence—mental or otherwise.”

Why can't they influence the Volchaski positively then? Make them kind?

“Because the Volchaski brains, they're like the opposite side of the coin. They don't have the stuff that makes those sorts of feelings or thoughts. The Sontarans saw to that when they created them. Even if the Delphine tried, they got nothin' to work with. You know, like trying to water grass through a brick wall, it just won't work.”

That's rubbish. There's got to be a way. The Doctor chewed his lip thoughtfully. Fear. What about fear?

“They aren't powerful enough. Doctor, think about it. The Volchaski feed on fear, it would take a lot of psychic energy for them to actually feel fear themselves. Besides... the Delphine are a bit busy.”

Busy? Doing what?

Donna looked incredulous. “Healing your mind, obviously!”

What? Right now?

“Yes!”

The Doctor's mouth hung open in astonishment. I didn't feel it. Why didn't I feel it?

“Doctor... you've been feeling your mind for weeks. What do you feel now?”

He blinked, working his jaw in sudden, amazed realization. He felt nothing. His headache was gone. The halo around his field of vision had faded. But my brain... it's still so tired, so heavy...

“They've repaired the hole, but your mind is still a disaster. It's going to take them a bit to put it back together.”

The Doctor's forehead creased in combined gratitude and perplexity. Donna, why are they helping me?

“Because you're the Doctor,” she replied in her best obviously tone.

But this universe never had a Doctor. I'm nobody here. Besides, haven't they got more important things to worry about right now, you know, like telepathic aliens trying to conquer the planet?

Donna looked baffled. “You don't seem to get it. This business with the Volchaski is way beyond them. They understand the fate of the entire planet is at stake, but it's a hopeless fight; one they've been losing, for years now.” Her expression softened. “But then you came along, and they saw inside your mind. All the things you've done, the ways you've saved people again and again. Don't you see? They've put their hope in you.”

-

Rose didn't have the Doctor's time sense, but it seemed to her that about forty-five minutes had passed since the Doctor had been thrown overboard, just as they finally came to the other side of the sprawling engine room and into a large empty space. In the center of that space was a strange looking bit of technology, about the size of a car, oblong and rounded on the ends, not unlike a torpedo, and with all sorts of wires and coils and flashing lights. It was connected to another massive machine, three times its size, which contained a small cubicle with a chair and a very suspicious and unpleasant looking helmet-like device hanging over it. The whole affair was being attended by half a dozen people, presumably all infected, and there seemed to be a sort of control station in the far corner of the room, manned by four computer techs and one supervisor.

Rose didn't recognize most of it, but the torpedo-like device was familiar. Something she'd seen at Torchwood.

“A... psychic projector,” she mumbled out loud. “It's a psychic projector. What on earth would you want with a psychic projector? You're already telepathic.”

“Ah, clever one. Yes,” the captain croaked. “We can feed off of one person as many times as we wish, until we frighten them to death. But we have much larger goals than mere survival.” He glared at her, then turned and crossed the room towards the control area, leaving Rose and her companions with their guards.

Rose worked her jaw, her mind racing as she tried to put the pieces together. The psychic projector could affect multiple people because it targeted an area rather than a single mind, bouncing psychic information from person to person, giving them all the same information. But it was still relatively limited. In their tests at Torchwood, it only had a maximum range of about two blocks. It was being pursued as a possible rapid communication tool for Torchwood agents, but they were stymied by the puzzle of how to send information to agents only, and not enemies or bystanders. The project eventually lost its funding, and the machine was placed in storage, all but forgotten. But how did the volchaski get their hands on it? And regardless of the answer to that question, how could any of this possibly give them any more advantage than they already had, considering the machine's limited range and lack of portability?

What concerned her more, however, was that giant computer, and that extremely unappealing chair in the cubicle. She had a feeling it had her name all over it.

Helen edged closer to Rose, speaking under her breath. “Rose, is that is? The panic mill?”

“Panic mill...” Rose repeated, lost in thought. A mill implied production of some sort. Were they trying to mass produce panic? It made sense in theory, but how could they do it? Unless that had a massive power supply to boost the range and intensity, its lack of portability made it completely impractical. At best, being on a boat, they could hypothetically travel along the coast and attack seaside villages, but that still didn't explain how they thought it would work.

Unless they just assumed it would work. What if they don't actually know its limitations? Then again, that massive computer it was hooked up to... was it possible this was the answer to the range and intensity? Had they invented a booster of some sort?

“Rose!” Helen's harsh whisper finally broke through the barrier of her intensely focused mind.

“What?” she said, glancing over.

“What are they doing?” She made a subtle gesture towards the scientists, who had congregated near the back of the psychic projector, apparently examining something very carefully, two of them nodding in satisfaction.

“I wish I knew.”

-

Donna, where are we?

“We're in an oxygen chamber in the Delphine's underwater village.”

But the ship. It's long gone by now. We've got to get out of here and help Rose!

“It's a mobile village, Doctor. It's been following the ship this whole time. Didn't you wonder why it was right there, where they just happened to throw you in the ocean? Quite the coincidence, dontcha think?”

The Doctor wrinkled his forehead, smiling wryly. Right. Never thought of that.

“Your brain's still a bit sloppy. Still, it's a lot better than it was. Can you talk yet?”

The Doctor opened his mouth experimentally, but couldn't find his voice.

Donna nodded. “Bein thrown in the water shocked your system and accelerated your mind's deterioration. When the Delphine rescued you, you were barely functioning. All those feelings of being warm and safe, and not needing to breathe? That was the Delphine soothing your mind.”

The Doctor's eyes widened. That's... that's... that's just amazing! I wondered why I felt so... well, fine, I guess.

Donna grinned. “It also boosted your intellect. Just enough so that you could respond to it and grab on. Oh, it planted that idea in your mind as well. See how positive they are? They're just lovely!”

I'm... I'm speechless. I'm actually speechless. Well, obviously, I am literally speechless, but even if I could say anything, I would be speechless!

Donna laughed. “Impossible. Your gob'd be going a mile a minute right now if it could.” 

Yeah, maybe...

Her expression softened. “Things got pretty mixed up in there when they closed the hole in your mind, everything had been working under so much stress that most of your basic functions collapsed as soon as the pressure was relieved. The Delphine had to work your heart and lungs for you for a little while. It was...” She glanced down. “...It was terrifying!”

The Doctor noticed her bottom lip begin to tremble, and his breath caught in his chest. Donna... Donna, I'm so sorry...

She sniffled, putting on a brave face. “It's alright, Doctor. All better now. Well, almost.”

Blimey... how long have I been down here?

“Not as long as you'd think. About forty-five minutes is all.”

He thought of Rose and his heart clenched. All the things that could have happened in forty-five minutes... Rose...

“Try not to worry, Doctor.”

But she's alone up there. I've got to help her! His heart started to race at the thought.

“She's okay. The Delphine can sense her emotions, remember? Just like they did with you. She is distressed, but calm. Whatever they're planning, nothing's happened yet.”

The Doctor calmed down a little, though he very much disliked the word distressed. “How much longer will we be down here?”

Donna gasped. “Doctor! Your voice!”

“My voice! Ha!” the Doctor said, eyes alight with triumph. “Ohoho, I've missed this. Talking! Talk-talk-talking, molto bene!”

“Oh boy, here we go.”

“Oi!”


End file.
